


Stay Tuned

by TheEnchantedQuill



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mech Preg (Transformers), Mpreg, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Redemption, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26119906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEnchantedQuill/pseuds/TheEnchantedQuill
Summary: Cybertron has been saved, and the reconstruction has begun. Autobots and Decepticons alike are flocking back home, ready to rebuild their restored planet. Optimus' dreams of redemption for all beings is finally coming true.With the war finally over, Ratchet and Optimus finally get to live their fantasy of having a family. Optimus didn't anticipate the target that would be put over Ratchet's head once he became sparked.A small band of Decepticons aren't satisfied with the way things played out. Seeking revenge and compensation, they take the sparked medic hostage, and the race begins. Optimus must juggle his Primely duties and searching for his medic while complying to the outrageous demands.His desperation is what leads him to Megatron.
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Ratchet
Comments: 91
Kudos: 99





	1. Not Just a Prime

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my newest project! This was a wonder to write, I have thoroughly enjoyed bringing it into existence, it was a new and challenging concept, and I loved rising to the test.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the whirlwind of emotions, adorable fluff, and cameos featuring characters from the classic TF series!
> 
> Welcome to Stay Tuned!

Optimus’ tired optics watched the jet grow smaller and smaller, chasing the far off distance until it disappeared over the horizon. There was a heavy feeling in his chest, something of unease, as he watched Megatron go. Whenever the twisted warlord left, he always came back before long. Optimus had no reason to doubt that this time would be the same. 

“It’s. . . It’s over,” behind him, Smokescreen uttered in disbelief. 

“Not yet.” There was the voice that he had missed all this time. Optimus turned around to gaze at Ratchet, his spark twisting in hurt. His spark was broken when Ratchet decided to stay on Earth, and they went all that time without one another. And now, when they finally met again, Optimus was sentenced to death. His medic’s calculating optics watched him carefully. “The Allspark,” he said nervously, “Where is it?” 

To draw Unicron from Megatron’s body, Optimus had released the Allspark into the Matrix of Leadership, opening a new vessel that could trap Unicron. It was a quick decision, and a worthy sacrifice, to give his life to save Cybertron’s future. The Prime struggled to find the words to explain this to his Autobots. They were the most passionate band he had ever had the honor of working beside, and it came out when they desperately argued with him, begging to find another way. Optimus believed that there was none, and that this was the right path to saving Cybertron. He was but a soldier, he was no god, he was willing to make the sacrifice. 

As he turned his back to the Autobots and prepared to lift off, there was a firm servo on his arm, and he was pulled back around to meet his medic’s angry optics. 

Ratchet insisted on at least  _ trying.  _ It had been a long time since they had argued, and he didn’t think that he had ever seen Ratchet this furious, with him, at least. Optimus found himself being dragged by the audial back towards the  _ Nemesis,  _ and he found that he didn’t resist, couldn’t, even. The reassurance of all the others, pleading with him to listen to Ratchet, the stubborn passion Ratchet had for him, it melted Optimus’ resolve, and he agreed to allow it. 

He didn’t think it would work.

But Ratchet had a knack for bringing about miracles. His second idea was what brought us to now. 

Ratchet and Wheeljack had discovered that with some modifications, the indestructible containers that had once held the Iacon relics were capable of holding the Allspark. The two scientists sat Optimus down and helped him coax the powerful beacon into the vessel, and by the magic of a medic who cared very much, the Prime and the planet were saved. 

  
  
  
  


Everything was settled. Construction was started up again, and everyone resumed what they had been working for before Unicron came to plague them. Citizens were arriving back, Autobot and Decepticon alike, eager to offer a hand in fixing their home. There was peace. Those who came for a fight found only kind, passionate friends who just wanted to live again. 

Optimus had his eyes on restoring something else, however. Ratchet hadn’t returned to Earth yet, deciding that he would wait until Ultra Magnus was back on his pedes. The Prime did not intend on letting him flee once again. 

On a quiet evening, Optimus found the medic in the medbay of the  _ Nemesis,  _ scrolling through a datapad and engaging Knock Out with witty banter. The addition of the Decepticon medic to their ranks was still new and awkward, but Ratchet didn’t seem to pay much mind. It had been a long time since he had capable help in a medbay, and it seemed that he welcomed the notion. 

“Hello, doctors,” Optimus greeted as he strode in. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Just Knockout’s fourth manicure today.” Ratchet replied halfheartedly, and Knock Out bridled. 

“Just because  _ I  _ have standards-” 

The red mech stopped at Ratchet’s raised servo. “What do you need, Optimus?” 

“I was hoping you would join me for a walk. I’d like to show you something I’ve found during reconstruction.” The Prime was embarrassed by the way his spark sped up dramatically. He offered a kind smile, hoping his nervousness wasn’t visible. 

Ratchet blinked, lowering his datapad. He hesitated before answering, “Alright.” He set it aside and quietly followed Optimus out, silent as they strode through the halls. Only when they made it outside did he speak again. “I know what you’re going to ask me,” he muttered miserably.

“You’ve always been perceptive.” Optimus rumbled as they strolled leisurely towards the sunset. The sky was beautiful at this time, clear and warm in color, and Ratchet stared up at it with thoughtful optics. “This way,” Optimus murmured softly, guiding him along. He ached to take Ratchet’s servo, but he feared the gesture would be answered with rejection. 

They walked for nearly half an hour, most of it in awkward silence. The atmosphere was heavy, and Optimus could feel the conflict wafting off of Ratchet. There was a battle being fought in his medic’s helm. Optimus hoped it would end in his favor. 

“We’re nearly there.” He reassured when Ratchet’s pace slowed. 

“Why are you dragging me out here?”

Optimus didn’t verbalize, only pointed. Ratchet followed the gesture with his optics, and gasped softly. 

Glinting in the sun, a wild crystal garden had begun to sprout, the first since Cybertron went dark. They had not been seen for a millenia, and their beauty was greatly missed. Pink, blue and purple crystals jutted upward in brilliant shapes, poking through rich Cybertronian soil and gleaming healthily. Ratchet passed Optimus and knelt to touch a crystal, carefully, as if it might disintegrate. “Primus,” he felt as if he might cry. “I missed these, so much.” He dipped his digits into the soil, sighing. It was soft and full of life. After Cybertron had died, the soil had greyed and become hard and unforgiving. There was no sign of that hardship now. 

Optimus appeared beside him, kneeling and reaching to brush the same crystal Ratchet was tenderly cradling. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” He watched his medic’s face, unable to keep from smiling. 

“Thank you for bringing me here.” Ratchet didn’t meet his gaze, setting his jaw. “I appreciate being able to see this before. . .” His throat tightened. “Before I return to Earth.” He wanted to make it clear that he had no intention of staying. He had made a sacrifice, a commitment, and he would not back out of it. Not for the scrap Optimus was pulling, anyway. 

A moment of pained silence passed. 

“Ratchet, I am so sorry.” Optimus caught him by surprise, and he visibly tensed. The Prime took his servo, intertwining their digits, holding firmly so he could not withdraw. He had to hear these words. “You deserved so much better than what I gave you.” 

“Please, don’t do this.” Ratchet shook his helm, begging. 

“I have to.” His leader vented slowly. “I will not make the same mistake twice. I will not let you run from me again.”

“Can you blame me?!” Ratchet yanked his servo free, leaping to his pedes and facing him furiously. “What was I supposed to do? Stay with a mech that couldn’t return my commitment? Optimus, you didn’t want me, so I stay on Earth so I can  _ forget  _ about you, and now you pull this stunt?! This isn’t fair, you can’t do this to me!” His voice raised to a shout, and Optimus winced. He remained kneeling, preferring to stay level with his angry medic. 

“I could never blame you, I hurt you, I pushed you away.” He agreed sadly. “You offered your spark to me, countless times, and I refused to take it. You could’ve been my mate, but I was a coward. I let my fears stop me from claiming the medic I love.” His spark clenched at Ratchet’s teary optics, and how they glinted in the beautiful Cybertron light. “You asked me for a sparkbond, the greatest commitment you could give me, and I left you. You have every right to be furious with me.”

“And I  _ am _ ,” Ratchet hissed.

“And now, I kneel before you, regretful of my mistake, ready to give you my spark. I am so very sorry for how I hurt you. All I can do now is beg for your forgiveness.” Optimus reached out and took Ratchet’s servo again, cradling it gently in his massive palm. “Ratchet, will you stay on Cybertron, by my side, as my mate?” 

“How fragging could you,” the medic spat, the servo Optimus held clenched into a fist. “How dare you, you can’t, I-  _ I FRAGGING HATE YOU. . .” _ He was sputtering, frame shuddering with rage. 

“I don’t believe you.” Optimus murmured, lifting Ratchet’s servo to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to it. 

“You’re  _ horrible _ , you can’t do this to me.” 

Optimus brought his servo to rest over his sparkchamber, and Ratchet could feel his spark beating. “My spark is yours, Old Friend. It always was. I am so sorry that I wouldn’t give it to you.” 

Ratchet suddenly crumbled, lowering to his knees and covering his face with trembling servos. All the walls he had built were crashing down, all of his buried hurt was resurfacing. He had tried hard to forget everything his leader made him feel, and here it all was, present as ever. Optimus embraced him, pulling him against his chest and holding him close. There was no resistance. “I can’t just forgive you.” Ratchet mumbled into his servos. 

“Try.” His leader pleaded. “Say yes.”

“Are you sure? Are you truly ready for this? Optimus, I don’t want this to be like before, I don’t want to sneak around and hide from everyone. I want you to let me be your mate.” His voice sounded hopeful, for a moment. 

Optimus smiled, engines humming affectionately. “Make no mistake, Old Friend. It will be nothing like before.” He released Ratchet as the medic made to get back up. 

“Alright. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he sighed, rolling his optics at the grin he received. “I’ll stay here, with you. I want nothing more than to be your sparkmate.”

Optimus suppressed the desperate urge to grab his medic, to touch him in ways he hadn’t in a long time, to kiss him and reassure him that everything was fine now. The sky above them was darkening, the first stars of the night emerging. Ratchet’s optics seemed to glow, his armor glinting in the fading light. Optimus hoped that he knew how handsome he looked beneath Cybertron’s lovely sky. It was impossible not to stare, and Ratchet laughed, soft and low. The sound made Optimus’ spark sing. 

“Are you done gawking?”

“Not quite yet.” The Prime’s optics moved over Ratchet’s spark chamber, and he imagined how beautiful his spark would be when they merged. 

The medic shifted his weight. “What now, Optimus?”

Unsure if he would cross a boundary, but  _ so damn desperate  _ to act, he answered, “Old Friend, I would like to interface with you in this garden, and then make you my mate, under the stars.” 

“Well then,” Ratchet reached out and stroked the side of his face, tracing his audial fin, smiling. “Who am I to say no to a Prime?” 

“Not just a Prime.” The large mech rumbled, taking his hips and pulling their frames together. His mouth caught Ratchet’s, and he pushed the medic’s legs apart as he laid him in the soft soil. “Your mate.” He purred against Ratchet’s lips. 


	2. Oh so well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, to make your heart happy.

New ships were arriving every week, crews of Cybertronians flocking back, ‘bot and ‘con alike. They had all received the same message, the war was over, it didn’t matter what faction you belonged to, it was time to forget the past and begin building the future. Most were overjoyed that the years of fighting were done, and came ready to throw aside what they had been previously. Tension was very present, those who had unsettled business struggled with moving forward, but they were on their way. 

Habitants were arriving faster than buildings were being built. One apartment building had been finished, and two more were on the way. The first goal was making living space for those returning home. Many still had to stay in their ships, or sleep in tents, while more living space was underway. The first rebuilt city would consist mainly of apartment buildings and housing units, just to support the new life. Bulkhead had kindly stepped forward, and was leading the construction, put in a position of responsibility and leadership. He had done wonders for their planet. His first building was beautiful, created with great passion and care, as were all of his projects. Optimus found himself pleasantly surprised with the wrecker. He was proud to call the green mech a friend. 

Ratchet had collected his belongings from Earth, and was on Cybertron to stay. He assisted in creating plans for Bulkhead’s projects, his knack for engineering roaring to life. During the day, he was consulting construction workers, meeting with Bulkhead, and assisting Knock Out in providing any and all with medical care. At night, he was cozied up with Optimus, proofreading his reports, massaging his back, and sharing his berth. Both of them were under stress, but as they had always before, made time for one another. Optimus made it his goal to greet every single incoming habitant, personally welcoming them home. He kept records of everyone returning, and showed them where they could help based off of their strengths. He had made many friends, and he was proud that nobody seemed to hate him. 

Many days, Ratchet would be at his side when he was at his welcoming post. He had grown very accustomed to the line: “Hello, I am Optimus Prime, this is my mate, Ratchet.” 

For the first time, they were open about their relationship. All of the feedback was positive, and everyone congratulated them kindly. Incoming habitants were often charmed to be greeted by a happy couple. 

Everything was going so, so well. 

Optimus was turning this over in his helm as he stood at the opening of the city, his mate by his side, watching a ship land a small distance away. “Decepticon,” Ratchet murmured to him, gesturing to the large purple insignia. “Former ones, at least.” He added. 

The crew was small, three mechs, all polite and eager to take part. None of this was out of the ordinary, other than the fact that one of them was an Insecticon. The beast was decorated with faded purple and green, and his visor was bright and shining. Optimus didn’t let his surprise show. It was shocking that this creature was a part of a crew instead of a hive. It was even more shocking that he was  _ extremely  _ charming.

“Greetings! Welcome home. I am Optimus Prime, and this is my mate, Ratchet.” 

The other two mechs nodded and shook hands, while the Insecticon stepped forward eagerly. “And a beautiful one at that, thank you for coming to greet us! I had half a mind to expect an ambush. Instead, we’ve had the honor of meeting the two of you. I’m Kickback, it’s a pleasure.” He bowed. His voice was shrill and had a slight echo to it, sounding from deep in his throat. 

“The pleasure is ours.” Ratchet bowed his helm, exchanging a pleasant look with his leader. “Welcome back to Cybertron.” 

The crew fit in easily, and Kickback joined the construction. Optimus saw him at the same time every morning, exchanging pleasant greetings with Bulkhead. He was punctual, polite, and a hard worker. Optimus felt that he had been judgemental of Insecticons in the past, in all honesty, he had never known them to have such kind capacity. 

The weeks were going by quickly. 

It was all going so  _ well.  _

And by some gift from Primus, it got better. 

One early morning, Optimus was enjoying warm energon with Bulkhead, Kickback and Arcee, discussing that day’s tasks, when his com channel clicked and rang with Knock Out’s voice. He turned away and answered with a morning greeting. 

_ “Hey there, Big Red. Wanted to give you a ring, and let you know that I just sent Ratchet back to your quarters. He’s not feeling very well, and threw a fit when I forced him out. Bee had to walk him and put him to bed.”  _

Optimus frowned. “Do you know what is wrong with him?”

_ “He wouldn’t sit still for a scan. You bonded to a rock of a mech, I’ve never met someone so damn stubborn-” _

__ “Did it seem serious?” Behind him, the trio was staring worriedly. Kickback refilled his cube with warm, fresh energon. 

_ “Relax, Ops. It’s most likely just a bug, with ‘bots and ‘cons coming back from all over, who knows what he’s been exposed to. It’ll run its course and will be over quickly. In the meantime, you have to sleep next his grumbling aft.”  _

__ Optimus vented. “Thank you, Knock Out.” He ended the channel, turning back to the others. 

“Do you need to go?” Arcee questioned.

“If it’s something serious, Ratchet will contact me. During my break, I will go to see him.” Trusting Knock Out felt odd, but comforting. The red mech didn’t seem too worried. He picked up a datapad and began flicking through. 

“Remember that we can cover for you.” Kickback offered.

“Thank you, but I believe if there was a bad complication, Knock Out would inform me. As would Ratchet.” The Prime nodded to them, smiling and sipping the refilled cube. “Now, today’s coursework.” 

  
  
  
  


In their shared room on the  _ Nemesis,  _ Ratchet was sitting on the edge of their berth, staring at his arm with wide, watery optics. The screen was open, Autobot code blinking, results popping up beside bullet points. He hadn’t inhaled for minutes, and while he didn’t need to breathe, it still made his chest tighten. Shakily, he climbed off of the berth, pacing once, twice, before finally making a decision and hurrying out the door. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Optimus was helping three vehicons lift a heavy panel up to Kickback and Bulkhead, grunting with the effort, when the Insecticon stopped and pointed. “Prime, shouldn’t Ratchet be resting?” He asked curiously. 

“Will you focus?!” One of the vehicons snapped, but Optimus was already distracted, and was lowering it back to the ground. 

“What did you say? The Prime panted, stretching his shoulders.

“Uh, why is Ratch here? I thought he was sick.” Bulkhead was now staring in the same direction as Kickback. Optimus turned around, glimpsing an orange and white paint job from behind workers carrying newly painted panels. He turned his audio receptors range up a few clicks, listening through all the construction noise.

“Excuse me, do you know where Optimus is?” His mate was asking somebot. 

“Please, excuse me,” Optimus said to those he had been helping and weaved through the worksite towards his medic. Their optics met, and Ratchet’s cheeks were wet with tears. Panic surged through Optimus, and he picked up his pace, nearly sprinting to his medic. “What is it, what’s wro-!” 

Ratchet crashed into him, leaping onto his chest and throwing his arms around his neck. Optimus stumbled for one stride, centering his weight and catching his mate. His spark was pounding in it’s chamber, he was burning with anxiety. 

“Ratchet,” he breathed, embracing Ratchet. He didn’t care that everyone was staring at them. He didn’t care that Ratchet’s pedes weren’t touching the ground, and that he was supporting all of the medic’s weight, despite his sore muscles. “What happened? Are you hurt?” 

Ratchet shook his helm, pulling back to look into his mate’s optics with a beaming smile. “No.” He purred. “Try again.”

“You’re scaring me.” Optimus whispered, as to not be heard. “What happened? Knock Out told me that you were ill.” 

“Not ill.” Ratchet ran his servo down Optimus’ cheek, stroking it gently, and his mate leaned into the touch. “Sparked.” He pressed their forehelms together, laughing heartily at Optimus’ wide optics. “I’m not ill. My handsome mate put a sparkling in me, that’s all.” 

Optimus gasped softly, hugging him tighter against his chest. “That’s wonderful,” he murmured in awe. “Oh Primus, that’s wonderful. Ratchet. . . Ratchet, we’re having a  _ sparkling _ .” 

His medic kissed his forehelm, laughing again. “You’re going to be a sire.” 

“I’m going to be a sire,” Optimus repeated, louder, in disbelief. Around them, there were cheers and clapping. Lowering Ratchet to his pedes, but keeping him in an embrace, he announced bashfully to those watching, “We’re having a sparkling.” 

Bulkhead and Kickback appeared at his side. Bulkhead rested a supportive servo on his shoulder, and Kickback was proudly clapping.

Things were going oh so well. 


	3. Back on the Radar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giving this to you a day early because I'm so nice to you 
> 
> Also I won't have time to post it tomorrow so

_“Hey, Optimus?”_

Pausing from tapping away at a keyboard, Optimus answered the call. “Hello, Bulkhead.” He was seated in the medbay, typing up late reports, despite it being his day off. Behind him, Ratchet and Knock Out were working leisurely, bantering as usual. They both quieted politely. 

_“Do you and Ratchet have a minute? Or. . . A lot of minutes?”_

Optimus leaned back in his chair. Bulkhead didn’t sound stressed or frightened, there wasn’t anything wrong. He did, however, sound embarrassed and shy. “Of course, what do you need?” He gestured for his mate to join him. 

_“Well, uh, this is going to sound a bit odd, but I have a gift for you guys.”_

Ratchet appeared behind him, resting his servos on his Prime’s shoulders. “Is it a new assistant?” He snarked, and behind him, Knock Out scoffed.

“Oh yes, _I’m_ the assistant. You know, you’re in _my_ medbay, Autobot.” 

“We’ll meet you shortly.” Optimus dismissed politely, ending the call and rising to his pedes. “You’ll join me?” He regarded his medic with a smile. Ratchet glanced around his work, venting. 

“Yes, I can always pick up here tomorrow. At the moment, medical service isn’t a large priority. Everything is engineering, now.” He closed a pair of cabinets and tucked away his tools. “Bulkhead said he has a gift?”

“That is what he said, yes.”

“Hmm.” Ratchet slipped a couple datapads into his subspace, humming in thought. “If Miko and Wheeljack were present, I wouldn’t spare a thought. I’ve been through that prank once or twice.” A small smile graced his lips, and Optimus felt his own wave of affectionate nostalgia at the thought of the human girl. “We’ll have to visit soon. Rafael will have questions.” Ratchet patted his sparkchamber, where the spark of their youngling was growing. A few weeks had passed, and he wasn’t at the point of showing quite yet, but the growth was well on the way. 

“Let’s not keep Bulkhead waiting.” Optimus took his servo; he had made a habit of holding his mate’s hand whenever they walked together. It made him proud that they could have a public relationship, after eons of hiding around. 

“Have fun, kids,” Knock Out waved without looking up as they departed. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Thanks for coming.” Bulkhead greeted with a warm smile. He was fidgety and nervous. “Uh. . . Walk with me?” Optimus and Ratchet exchanged looks. “Humor me.” He pressed.

Ratchet pulled his mate after the wrecker, following the newly cleaned sidewalk under bright streetlights. The roads near the first apartment building had been restored, and now glowed brilliantly, providing peaceful nightly strolls for many habitants. They passed the next apartment building that was in the process of being built; it was almost halfway done, now that Kickback had stepped up and took charge. Ratchet glanced at it with a proud smile. The Insecticon had done better than anyone would’ve expected. 

Five minutes passed, and the sun was setting. Bulkhead was quiet and jittery. Optimus was enjoying the walk, squeezing his mate’s servo every so often. 

They came to a housing unit. The pair of mates stopped, their expressions changing to a look of surprise. Previously, the area had been searched for any intact homes that could be utilized, and had found that every unit in the city was destroyed. Optimus remembered the day that this city was mercilessly bombed. He noted with a pang that four streets over was where Mirage had perished. 

This house was in perfect shape. The outside was painted nicely, the porch decorated with potted crystals, and soft light came from the windows, casting over the front yard. It looked welcoming and peaceful. 

“You’ve begun restoring housing units?” Ratchet frowned. “That wasn’t in the plans.” Optimus saw where this was going, and he squeezed his medic’s servo, spark speeding up.

“Not exactly.” Bulkhead shrugged shyly. “Want to see the inside?” He led the way up the walkway, and onto the porch. Ratchet touched the growing crystals affectionately, before following Bulkhead through the door. The floors were shiny, newly swept and polished. The home was completely furnished, open but homey. The main living room had a comfy looking couch behind a low table; paintings decorated the walls. There was a counter, and brand new energon processors ready for usage. A vase with metal flowers- replicas of Earth roses- sat on a large empty shelf. 

“I can’t remember the last time I saw a unit like this.” Ratchet vented as he looked around. 

“Back here are the berthrooms and washracks.” Bulkhead ushered them down the hallway. 

The washrack was small but well suited, and most of the space was dedicated to the huge bathtub. Optimus noted with excitement that it could easily fit both him and his mate. 

The first berthroom was delightfully decorated with paintings and more handcrafted Earth flowers, and a large, comfy berth. The blankets, pillows and sheets matched a color scheme. There was space for a desk. Ratchet touched the comforter of the berth, feeling the soft texture on his digits. Optimus was hardly able to keep his excitement invisible. 

Bulkhead finally led them to the last room. He opened it and stepped aside, smiling wide and proud. Ratchet gasped. 

It was a nursery. The walls were painted with bright colors. There was a crib in the corner, and a rocking chair opposite of it. A box of handmade toys sat on a rug in the center of the room. Ratchet seemed to finally catch on. “Bulkhead,” he breathed, staring at the wrecker with wide optics.

“Surprise.” Bulkhead laughed shyly. “I really hope you guys like, it, I-”

“How?!” Ratchet demanded.

“Well, after I found out that you were starting a family. . .” Bulkhead was twiddling his thick digits, visibly embarrassed. “I thought that the _Nemesis_ was no place to raise a sparkling. I had everyone chip in, we fixed the place while the two of you were hard at work. Everyone is so happy for you, everyone lent a hand, so it went quick and easy. . . Arcee and Bumblebee painted everything, except for the actual paintings, those were a gift from one of the vehicons, R-657. Kickback rounded up all the furniture we couldn’t build. I designed the plans for the reconstruction and made the flowers.” He added the last part quietly and shyly. “I wanted to do something nice for you guys, especially since it’s the first sparkling after the war, and-”

“Bulkhead, this is incredible.” Ratchet stepped forward and rested a servo on his arm. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“This is the greatest gift one could receive.” Optimus agreed, smiling wide. “You did very well, Bulkhead.” 

“I’m glad you two like it.” The wrecker laughed, waving dismissively. “Thank everybody, it was a group effort.” 

Optimus draped an arm around his mate, gazing around the nursery happily. “Our sparkling seems to have made friends already.” He murmured. Ratchet rubbed his chest, chuckling.

“Bulkhead, you’ll be the first to meet them.” He decided aloud. 

The wrecker’s face lit up. “O-Oh, that. . . Thank you! I would be honored.” He hesitated, looking worried. “But I’m clumsy, I shouldn’t interact with something so. . . little.” He fretted. 

“Nonsense, my friend.” Optimus reached forward to pat his shoulder. “While large, you are a gentle, careful mech. I’ve watched you interact with our human friends for years. I trust you with our sparkling.” He reassured. 

Bulkhead blushed, laughing again. “Yeah, okay, if you trust me.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Do you want a mech or a femme?” 

Optimus looked up from his datapad. Ratchet was at the counter, mixing energon thoughtfully. He set the screen onto the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “I don’t think I could pick.” He replied, watching his mate. “What would you prefer?” 

“Either, as long as it has your optics.” Ratchet smiled at the energon before taking a sip. “Or your markings. One or the other.”

They had moved into their new home very quickly, and had adjusted pleasantly. Optimus adored mornings like this, relaxing in their living space, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. It had become home very quickly. He patted the cushion beside him, and Ratchet sat beside him, setting a cube on the table for him. “We have a busy day.” Optimus vented, offering him the datapad. 

“Don’t we always?” Ratchet sighed, glancing over it. He set it back down, leant back, and began prodding at his middle. Optimus watched him curiously. “Look,” the medic smiled. “I’m starting to show.” 

Optimus’ engines hummed happily as he now noticed that Ratchet’s stomach had grown, not very much, but was certainly bigger than before. “You are.” He agreed. “How long has it been?”

“A month.”

“Already?” Optimus tilted his helm and brushed Ratchet’s lips, kissing him gently. His mate returned it in kind, sharing the taste of his morning energon. He found himself touching Ratchet’s stomach, imagining how much bigger it would get.

There was a knock at the door. 

“Don’t answer it,” Ratchet mumbled. “We’re not expected for at least another hour.” 

Optimus pecked his lips once more before rising up and answering the door. While he was conversing with whoever was on their porch, Ratchet began packing for their day, making a quick checklist of all the tasks Bulkhead had gone over with them the previous morning. He checked the berthroom desk for Optimus’ schedule, which he almost always seemed to forget, despite it being rather important. It lined up both of their work schedules for weeks in advance, and had crucial notes that would need consulting throughout the day. He brought it back to the counter in time to meet Optimus. His mate was grim, frowning deeply. 

“What’s wrong?” Ratchet asked as he handed him his schedule.

“Megatron’s signal appeared about four miles from the city.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“What do you want us to do, Optimus?” Arcee was impatiently tapping her digits against the table, watching her leader expectantly. Flanking her were Bulkhead, Wheeljack and Bumblebee. 

“Firstly, refrain from panicking,” he flashed her a look. Beside him were Ratchet, Kickback and Knock Out. 

“He’s most likely just scavenging.” Kickback offered. “Searching for resources may have just brought him close to our city. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He added in response to the skeptical look he received. 

“Or he could be out for revenge. We all know the mech holds grudges.” Knock Out countered. “I find it a little strange that he only popped up after the news of Optimus and Ratchet having a sparkling.” 

The Autobot medic shifted uncomfortably. “Again, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “When there is proof of Megatron returning for revenge, I’ll be on board with reacting strongly, but until then, let’s look at all possibilities.” 

“He didn’t get any closer than four miles, and he wasn’t traveling directly towards the city. I think Kickback is right. The most reasonable explanation is that he is scavenging for resources.” Bumblebee piped up, nodding to the Insecticon. “We can’t assume that he’s come to do harm, or that he’s even capable. All he is now is a loner.” 

“While it is unsettling that Megatron has resurfaced, I agree that we cannot jump to the conclusion that he is seeking vengeance.” Optimus’ voice rose as he began giving orders. “We will begin monitoring more closely, and guards will be stationed at the city entrance.” 

“Why don’t we hunt Buckethead down and tell him to step off?” Wheeljack raised an optic ridge. “Just to be sure.”

Ratchet made an exasperated noise and stepped away from the table. “While the lot of you continue to be paranoid, I’m going to get to work.” He waved a servo and turned on his heel, the door hissing shut behind him. 

“Careful what you say around him, you wouldn’t want the stress to hurt the little one,” Kickback fretted to Wheeljack. 

“The Doc’s fine.” 

Bumblebee vented loudly. “Can’t you just listen to Kickback? Ratchet is happy for the first time in eons, enough giving him reasons to worry.” 

“Do not argue.” Optimus warned firmly. “I do not intend on letting Megatron cause infighting between us.” He turned, briskly leaving to go after Ratchet, striding quickly to catch up with him. He slipped beside him, catching his servo. “Ratchet?”

“In all honesty, Optimus, I am nervous about Megatron.” The medic admitted to him quietly as they walked down the corridor. “His timing frightens me.”

“I will never let anything happen to you, or our sparkling.” Optimus said gently. 

“I know. I still can’t help but worry, you know that.” His mate sighed. 

“Optimus!” 

The pair stopped at the loud call, turning to face Kickback as he approached them at a sprint. “You forgot your schedule.” The Insecticon slowed to a stop and offered him his datapad. 

“Damn it Optimus, you always forget the fragging thing,” Ratchet was muttering. 

“Thank you, Kickback.” The Prime smiled gratefully, taking the datapad and tucking it into his subspace. “You are very helpful. I am glad to have you.”

“Hey, Ratch,” Politely smiling, Kickback offered a servo, palm facing the ceiling. “Don’t mind them. Even if Megatron has some crazy revenge plan, he has to go through the lot of us. We appreciate you and we won’t let anything happen to you or the sparkling.”

Ratchet answered him with an appreciative look, giving him his servo. “Thank you, Kickback.” The Insecticon squeezed his hand before releasing it. “Have a good day, now.” He waved as Kickback strode off. 

“He’s a lucky find.” Optimus thought out loud. 

Ratchet nudged him. “Charming, isn’t he? Especially for an Insecticon. You don’t meet many mechs like him anymore.”

His mate scoffed. “Tread lightly now, Old Friend.” He warned.

“Worried I’ll leave you for an Insecticon?” Ratchet laughed, pulling him down for a brief kiss. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting schedule is every other day!


	4. Crashing Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yissss the plot is pickin' up boys

Megatron’s signal did not appear again, and the fear of him died out. Those anxious by his closeness calmed over time, and soon the guards stationed outside the city seemed unnecessary. Ratchet never brought up his worries about the warlord after the walk in the hallway with Optimus, and Optimus wondered if he was still unsettled. 

Arcee had pulled him aside and asked him a question that he had hoped to avoid: “What if Megatron wants to join us?”

He didn’t know. Personally, he was an advocate for change. He believed that everyone could change for the better, and had been proven right with all the former Decepticons joining them in rebuilding the city. But did Megatron deserve the same opportunity they were given? Could he be forgiven?

At the time, Optimus brushed it off. “Megatron has no intention of living alongside us.” He had told her. 

Hoping to forget about the thought, Optimus busied himself with his work without the distraction of Megatron. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Working wasn’t  _ fun  _ on Ratchet’s days off. Optimus missed joining him for energon during breaks, bantering when they passed each other in the hall, bouncing ideas off of one another when discussing reports. He had grown so used to having Ratchet around, that when he wasn’t, everything lost his interest. 

Today was one of those days. Ratchet was at home, most likely relaxing and swiping through a datapad, and Optimus was working. 

The second apartment building was doing wonderfully. He was participating in some of the heavy lifting with Kickback and Ultra Magnus, taking orders from Bulkhead. Never in his life did he think that the wrecker would be exercising authority over him, and he found that he was honored to work with the new, responsible mech Bulkhead had become. It was hard work. His back and shoulders ached, but it felt good to be doing this rather than writing reports. During his break, he sat down with Knock Out and Bumblebee. It was nice to spend time with them, outside of the war, just for the sake of being friends. 

He had made friends for the first time in a millenia. They were no longer his soldiers, they were his  _ friends.  _ The thought was delightful.

The day wound up being his most exhausting one in weeks. His frame wasn’t built for construction, and he wasn’t as fit as he used to be, now that all he did was write reports and cuddle with Ratchet. When it finally came to an end, he was eager to return home.

He was dropping reports off on the  _ Nemesis,  _ prepared to leave for his unit, when Kickback burst through the door, breathing hard.

“There’s been an accident.” 

Optimus’ expression hardened, and he followed Kickback at a run through the corridors of the ship and through a groundbridge.

The sight made his spark clench. 

The second apartment, halfway built, had collapsed, and was hardly more than a pile of rubble and debris. Mechs and femmes were waving through a thick cloud of dust, calling to one another, pushing rocks around. There were frantic cries and pleas for help. 

“Bulkhead!” Optimus shouted for the wrecker, weaving through everybody to get to him.  “What happened? Is anyone hurt?” 

Bulkhead looked ready to blow a fuse. “I have no fragging idea,” he waved his servos around. “I’m not sure yet, we’re checking who exactly was supposed to be here and who is present now.” 

While that information was being found, Optimus called for Knock Out and began helping carry the wounded to safety. He sent Kickback and a few others to start digging for any salvageable resources. When the wrecker approached him again holding a datapad, Optimus tried to take the bad news in stride. Arcee and four mechs weren’t anywhere to be found. 

“Nobody leaves until they have been found.” He ordered, and Bulkhead nodded in agreement, turning to instruct those around them where to start digging. 

It took hours. The rubble proved hard to navigate and sift, and the dust made it hard to see and breathe. Optimus’ muscles screamed at him as he heaved rocks aside, calling out for any of the missing mechs, or Arcee. The mates and friends of the buried ones were crying and frantically searching. 

Optimus was glad that Ratchet wasn’t here during this.

  
  
  
  


At home, Ratchet was mixing energon at the counter, staring into the solvent absentmindedly. He had begun integrating nutrients for his sparkling into his fuel, and they made it bitter. Energon sweetener production wasn’t available, not yet, at least. He was watching the clock, waiting for his mate to come home. He had made a list of names that he wanted to go over. 

There was a noise outside, and he slowed his stirring. A thud and a crack, and the sound of the door hissing open. Ratchet froze. Optimus wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. 

Slowly, he moved away from the counter, and towards the hallway. The cursed thought of Megatron popped into his helm, and anxiety coursed through him. If he could lock himself in the berthroom and call Optimus. . . 

The mech that came around the corner wasn’t Megatron, and neither were the two behind him. Ratchet dove for the hallway, and a clawed servo closed around his wrist, and he was pulled back. Drawing his blade, he swiped at the arm of his attacker, and the mech jolted and released him. Stumbling forward, and knocking over a vase, Ratchet now made for the door. A short,  _ very short,  _ mech stepped in front of him to block, and Ratchet easily shoved him aside and into a shelf, toppling it over. Before he could make it to the door, however, the third mech managed to slip an arm around his waist and throw him backwards, sending him off balance and pressing an activated blaster to his chest. 

“There, see? Easy.” Red optics were glinting with laughter. “Hold still, Autobot.” The tiny mech clambered his pedes and brushed himself off, and the first mech that had attacked him now stood behind him, pressing his own blaster against his backstrut. 

Ratchet stood frozen, looking down at the cannon with panicked optics. His spark was pounding in it’s chamber, so hard he thought it might burst.

“Well,” the small mech’s voice was shrill and annoying. “Let’s get him all tied up and on camera.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


After hours of digging, everyone was found. Arcee and three of the mechs bore injuries, but would be fine with minor repairs. The fourth mech had died from his wounds. The mech’s mate sobbed as they pulled his husk from the rubble, and Optimus did his best to comfort him, rubbing his shoulders and speaking soothingly. Knock Out had the survivors brought to the medbay, and last he had checked, they were all fine. 

It was getting late, and there was little more they could do. Everyone was tired, and it wasn’t like they could rebuild the tower overnight. Optimus thanked those who had helped, and dismissed them to return home. His spark ached for the mech who had lost his mate as he departed. 

Optimus' pedes dragged as he walked, he hardly had enough energy to lift them. His shoulders sagged, plates in his backstrut ached, and his optics strained tiredly. He was exhausted. Luckily, the trip to his home was short. 

The thought of his warm unit was what kept him moving, knowing his loving mate was waiting for him, ready to kiss him and tuck him into bed. Their berth would be cozy, Ratchet would heat up energon for him, and slip in beside him for a cuddle before they drifted off. Optimus' spark skipped a beat thinking about Ratchet's soft lips, pressing to his forehelm, and then, at his nudge, his mouth. Ratchet would stroke his helm gently, and Optimus would bury his face into his chest, to listen to the beating of his mate's spark. 

He very much looked forward to returning home, the promise of his medic's love his driving force. 

Sighing softly, he trudged up the sidewalk and onto the patio, striding blindly up the walkway to his unit. His tired optics missed the damaged keypad beside the front door; it had been punched in and ripped out, wires torn and hanging out from the hole.

The door was open. No sounds came from inside the unit.

Optimus had taken two steps in when he stopped, his processor finally catching up with him. His tanks dropped, and a sickening flood of dread took its place. He stepped back outside, finally noticing the damaged keypad. "No," he breathed, his spark taking off like an unbroken stallion. "Ratchet!" He made no effort to hide the panic in his voice as he barreled through the hallway and into the main living space of the house, calling out for his mate. 

The room was in a state of disarray. Two shelves had been knocked over, the datapads stored there sent about. A vase had fallen and shattered, and there was a large puddle of energon on the floor. Optimus panicked initially, but found an overturned cube beside the shattered vase. 

"Ratchet!" He called out again, frantically throwing every door open and checking every room. While he searched, his com link to Ratchet activated and he desperately tried to contact him that way, but the calls never went through. 

His mate was nowhere to be seen.

His exhaustion forgotten, Optimus began to panic. His servos trembled as he dialed Knock Out over his com, swallowing to keep his voice from shaking as the surgeon's sultry voice answered him.  _ "What do you need, Big Rig?"  _

"Is Ratchet with you?" He asked steadily. 

_ "Negative, it's his day off. Haven't heard from him once."  _

Optimus leaned against a doorframe, tensely rubbing his temple. His spark was pounding so hard his helm hurt. 

_ "Is he not with you?" _

"I thought. . . If he wasn't here, he'd be at the medical center. . ." The Prime was mumbling, trying to calm his breathing.

_ "Have you tried calling him?" _

Something on the counter in the main living space caught Optimus' optics, and he didn't absorb the red doctor's question. He felt nauseous with fear as he approached it. 

_ "Prime? Hello? Should I call someone?" _

Optimus came to the counter, clenching his jaw. On the countertop was a datapad, deactivated, decorated with a big red bow on top. There was a small tag that read ' _ for Optimus <3' _ . 

_ "Optimus?" _

Without a second thought, Optimus ended the call with Knock Out, taking the datapad into his shaking servos and activating it. The screen lit up, displaying a video. Hesitating, spark clenching, Optimus pressed play.

It opened with the face of a Decepticon he had never seen before. He wore a cruel grin, clad in shining purple armor, red visor glinting as he adjusted the camera.  _ "Why, hello there, SAVIOR OF CYBERTRON _ ," he drawled rather giddily. His voice was shrill.

Behind him, there was scuffling, and quiet mutters.

_ "Lookie who we have, Prime. . ." _ The mech's laugh was raspy and cruel as he stepped aside and out of the frame, revealing Ratchet, trapped between two large seekers. Optimus recognized Thundercracker and Skywarp immediately with a noise of anger, deep in his throat. Between them, Ratchet was bound and gagged. There was a splotch of blue on his cheek, which was slightly swollen, evidence that he had been struck. Optimus bristled, his servos balling into tight fists. 

_ "Look at the camera, Mama-bot, _ " the unnamed 'con cackled, and Skywarp took Ratchet's throat in his claws and forced his helm upward, level with the datapad. The medic made a noise and resisted, before the servo tightened around his neck and drew a choked sound from him.  _ "I just want to say, congratulations, Prime. You must be so proud to sire the first sparkling born since the war, your dear mate here looks wonderfully well on the way."  _

A servo moved into the frame to brush Ratchet's swollen middle, where their sparkling grew. The medic visibly tensed against the two seekers, twisting in his restraints. 

_ "I'll keep it short. _ " The mech moved back, cutting off Thundercracker but keeping Ratchet well in view. Beside the seekers and Ratchet, he was rather short, barely coming up to their waists.  _ "Megatron may be done fighting, but we are not. We feel that you don't deserve what you've won. You'll have to compensate us, of course, if you want to see your mate alive again. Tomorrow morning, this datapad will have downloaded a list of demands and deadlines. So stay tuned, OPTIMUS PRIME _ ." He sneered. 

The mech whirled around and nodded to Skywarp, who promptly pulled the gag from Ratchet's mouth. The purple seeker tightened his hold on the medic, chuckling as Ratchet shied away from the approaching mech. " _ Stay the frag away from me _ ," he hissed tensely. 

_ "Not until you scream _ ." The mech purred, slipping a dagger into his palm and raising it so it glinted in the light. Ratchet stared at him with furious, challenging optics.  _ "Come now, for your big strong mate. _ " The mech moved quickly, before Ratchet could react, burying the blade to it's quillion in his thigh. 

Ratchet screamed. 

The video ended, cutting to black. Optimus found himself staring at his reflection. He watched himself, watched the angry expression on his face, and how it slowly dissolved into pure fear. 


	5. Mission Failed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/VdZdbPxRDJU

Knock Out was the last to arrive at the emergency meeting. Optimus, in his moment of panic and desperation, found that he couldn’t think clearly enough to decide the next course of action on his own. He needed to consult Team Prime. Quickly, he had dialed all of them, plus Kickback and Knock Out. Both former Decepticons could possess background information on the mechs that had taken Ratchet, and it couldn’t hurt to have them around. 

The red medic tiredly sat down at the table in between Wheeljack and Bumblebee, rubbing his optics. Optimus felt a guilty pang; Knock Out hadn’t had a moment of rest since the accident, and had been treating injuries and fixing ‘bots up all this time. 

“What’s going on, Chief?” Wheeljack was watching him closely. Optimus hadn’t explained the situation, only called an emergency meeting. Everyone was looking to him expectantly. 

The Prime tried to keep his servo from shaking as he set the datapad on the table. Inhaling, he spoke carefully, “Ratchet. . . Ratchet’s been taken by Decepticons.” There was a stunned silence.

“What?!” 

“How do you know?”

“He was taken from our home, this was left behind. They intend on holding him hostage. I need your help in finding him.” Optimus activated the datapad. “I recognize Thundercracker and Skywarp, but I don’t recognize the third mech. Knock Out, Kickback, can either of you identify him?” He let the video play for a few seconds, until the small mech’s face was in view, before pausing it.

A scoff left Knock Out. “That little twerp is Rumble. Never met him, but I spent enough time with Soundwave to know all about him.”

“You’re certain?”

“That’s him alright. Megatron kept records, I can get the file. He left Soundwave and Megatron on a little quest for independence before everyone fled Cybertron, if I remember correctly. The Big M never liked him much.” 

“Please, retrieve the file.” Optimus nodded. “We need to know who we are dealing with.” 

When Knock Out returned with the datapad, Optimus played the video for them. As it went along, all of the Autobots visibly grew angry and restless. Bulkhead seemed to have a hard time watching the clip, averting his optics and clenching his jaw. There was a silence when the video ended. “So, Megatron’s got to be behind this, right?” Wheeljack broke it, and crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his optics. There was a certain  _ I told you so  _ that was on his glossa, and Optimus was glad he chose to keep it to himself. 

“Wouldn’t we have seen him?” Bumblebee pointed out. “Megatron doesn’t hide, and Knock Out said that he disliked Rumble.” 

“Perhaps he doesn’t want us to know that he’s involved?” Kickback offered. 

“I don’t believe Megatron would dismiss a chance to throw his victory in Optimus’ face. The mech’s petty and cruel, if he was involved, he’d be right there beside Ratchet, dangling him in front of Optimus to tease him.” As Knock Out spoke, he cringed at the way he put it, flashing the Prime an apologetic look. 

Optimus couldn’t look at any of them, and instead looked at his servos. They were trembling. “If we know where he has been taken, we can start planning a rescue.” 

“How can we find that, based off of the video?”

“Perhaps not from the video,” the Prime closed his optics thoughtfully. “We know that Rumble, Skywarp and Thundercracker are involved. To start, we should search for their signals. If we’re lucky, the  _ Nemesis  _ would’ve picked up their signals when they arrived at Cybertron. It may tell us where they are hiding.” 

“I’ll start scanning.” Bumblebee rose to his pedes. “Knock Out, I might need your assistance. You know how to locate Decepticons on this ship better than anyone here.” The pair disappeared through the door, and there was another silence.

“What other evidence could we gather?” Optimus looked around at all of them.

“Do you think they used a groundbridge?” Kickback asked.

“I don’t believe so. They had to break into the unit, rather than bridging inside.” 

“I doubt they just walked. Their hideout would be too close, and I can’t imagine Ratchet being easy to drag along, he’d be fighting every step of the way.” Wheeljack piped up again. Optimus winced at the image of Ratchet struggling. “They must have a ship.” 

“A small one, that wouldn’t have been seen.” Kickback added to his point.

Optimus wrote everything they had thought of down, grateful for the activity for his servos. When they sat still, they shook like trees in a storm. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this anxious. “What happens next, Optimus?” Bulkhead asked him quietly.

“We wait for Bumblebee and Knock Out. Hopefully they will find something.” The Prime replied solemnly. 

“And if they don’t?”

Optimus set his jaw, frowning. His spark was aching. He didn’t want to answer. “We’ll have to wait for them to send us their demands.” He hated the thought of Ratchet spending the night there, and desperately hoped that they could find a way to rescue him quickly. The medic was most likely in a state of fear and helplessness, and he prayed that they wouldn’t harm him. 

More silence. Bulkhead hesitantly piped up. “Boss, I didn’t want to trouble you with this tonight, but. . .” Optimus looked up at him. He inhaled and spoke carefully. “I couldn’t sleep after the accident, it didn’t seem right. Kickback and I built the foundation ourselves, and I’ve been reviewing all the plans and how they were executed. . . It couldn’t have collapsed like it did on it’s own. I think it was sabotaged. The severity of the collapse. . . The base had to have been intentionally bombed. A grenade would’ve done the trick.” 

Dread was growing in Optimus’ chest. He didn’t like that news at all. “Thank you, Bulkhead. We will investigate as soon as we can.” 

“Could they be linked?” Kickback looked stricken. “It seems that all of our achievements are being targeted, the reconstruction of Cybertron, the first sparkling in an era. . .” 

The door opened, and Bumblebee and Knock Out returned. Optimus felt a spark of hope that was crushed almost instantly by Bumblebee’s look of defeat. “It seems that they came in completely cloaked and scrambled. There’s no sign of their signals in the ship’s history, going back almost a year.” 

The silence that followed burnt. Optimus couldn’t calm his pounding spark. Kickback’s servo rested on his shoulder. 

“I guess we wait then.” Wheeljack muttered. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Optimus stayed on the  _ Nemesis  _ that night. He couldn’t sleep. The berth was empty and cold, and he felt painfully alone. He knew that somewhere, Ratchet was feeling alone and frightened. He wished he could comfort his mate. Watching the clock, he waited for the hours to tick by, waiting for morning to come, wondering what exactly Rumble and the seekers wanted. 

No rest came to him. All he could do was pace to and fro, drowning in his own fears. What if they were hurting Ratchet? What if something happened to the sparkling? How long would it be until he saw his mate again? 

His frame ached miserably by the time morning came, and the datapad flickered on with a new transmission. He scooped it up and called another meeting, hurrying down the halls. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


This time, Arcee joined them. Knock Out had informed her of the situation while he was checking on her early that morning, and she insisted on taking part. Optimus felt a wave of appreciation as she limped through the door and sat down. Everyone was anxious, silent and fidgety. Optimus wondered if they had been restless that night as well. 

“I don’t know what will happen.” He warned them. “Ratchet may be. . . harmed. If you don’t think-”

“We’re all staying.” Wheeljack cut him off. “For the Doc.” 

Optimus took that as confirmation to press play. He held his breath.

He thought it would start a video, but instead, a two way feed was activated, and he froze as Rumble spoke shrilly,  _ “About time, Optimus. How long do you want to keep Mama-bot here waiting?”  _

His processor raced, and he signaled to Bumblebee discreetly. “Trace the call,” Wheeljack whispered to him. The scout frantically disappeared through the door.

The datapad lit up with Rumble’s end of the feed, and Optimus bristled. Ratchet was bound to a table, servos trapped above his helm, gagged. On either side of his helm were Skywarp and Thundercracker, laughing quietly as they both lightly dragged small blades over Ratchet’s chestplating, careful enough to only peel the paint. Ratchet was staying as still as possible, fearing that any slight movement might provoke a deeper cut. Rumble sat to the side, servos on his hips.  _ “Good morning. Doing well?”  _ He grinned, visor glinting. 

Optimus swallowed his frustration. “What do you want, Rumble?”   
  


_ “Right to the chase! I was only being courteous, dear Prime. Don’t you want to know how your pretty mate is faring?”  _ He gestured to the bound mech. Skywarp gripped his chin and forced him to angle his helm towards the camera. 

Before Optimus could answer, Arcee whispered to him, “Play along, it gives Bee more time.” He vented.

“Yes, I do. Have you harmed him?” 

Rumble chuckled dryly.  _ “Oh, we’ve been gentle. That comes when you don’t behave.”  _ He shifted his weight, casting a glance towards the seekers, who had begun teasing exposed wires and cables along Ratchet’s neck with their daggers, threatening to slide them open. Ratchet was tense, optics squeezed shut.  _ “How did you sleep last night, Prime? Were you worried? Were you scared we would mistreat your sweet medic?”  _

Optimus hated being taunted like this in front of his Team, to have his mate dangled in front of him. “I would like to know your demands. I do not want him to be in your custody for much longer.” He said evenly. 

_ “Be patient. You'll know shortly.”  _ Rumble waved a servo dismissively. He lifted a datapad, waving it around a bit.  _ “You know what this is.”  _ He smirked at Ratchet, and the medic made a soft, sad sound. Optimus’ spark ached.  _ “Looks like Mama-bot was coming up with some names while you were away. He’s got a good handful here. Want to hear them?”  _

That stung. The morning before, Ratchet had told him that he was going to brainstorm some sparkling names for them to discuss when he got home. They had been so excited. Optimus didn’t want to hear Ratchet’s ideas from the cruel mech who had kidnapped him. “That is not your information to give.” The Prime warned. 

Bumblebee came back into the room, visibly furious. He sat down and shook his helm. Optimus’ servos clenched into fists. 

“Untraceable.” Wheeljack guessed, and the scout nodded. 

Arcee leaned forward and murmured into Optimus’ audial. “I think I know where they are.” 

_ “And what if you never get to see your mate again? Wouldn’t you want to know what he came up with?”  _

Optimus tensed at the implication. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. 

_ “Let’s see. . .”  _ Rumble looked down at the screen, grinning. His free servo moved to stroke Ratchet’s growing stomach, rubbing it slowly as he read. Ratchet squirmed with a whine. 

“Don’t touch him,” Optimus blurted out before he could stop himself. 

_ “You’re in no position to tell me what to do, Prime. In case you haven’t noticed, right now, Ratchet is ours, and we can do to him what we please. It would be unfortunate if he or the sparkling suffered because of your inability to control yourself, wouldn’t it?”  _

Optimus sat back in his chair, taking in a shaky breath. He tried to keep his ventilations steady.

_ “Now, let’s take a look at what Mama-bot came up with, shall we? Hmm. . .”  _ Arcee and Knock Out were whispering, and writing things down.  _ “Oooh, Palladium for a little mech, I like that one. First Aid. . . Farstride. . . Hm, are these Earth terms, Mama? Dahlia? Lavender?” _

Optimus’ spark broke. He had always told Ratchet how much he adored Earth’s flowers, and many times insisted on keeping potted plants in the base. Rafael’s allergies got in the way of that. It made his spark sing, the fact that Ratchet had remembered flower names, and was considering them for their sparkling. He wanted to beg Rumble to stop. This was supposed to be for  _ them.  _

Rumble kept listing them off, and Optimus wasn’t listening. He was watching Arcee communicate with the others. They looked hopeful. She and Knock Out were writing something down.

_ “Now, Optimus, your datapad should be downloading a list of demands. They are simple and straightforward. We are also providing a list of deadlines. Fail to meet the deadlines. . .”  _ Rumble flashed a smile, and Thundercracker stroked Ratchet’s face slowly. The medic turned his helm away, making a quiet noise of defiance. 

“And then?” Optimus narrowed his optics. “You’ll let him go?” 

_ “Have patience. We’ll see when we come to that.”  _ Rumble pet Ratchet’s stomach, now looking down at the medic.  _ “It’s a shame we can’t feel kicking yet. I look forward to it.”  _

“Will you let me speak to him?” Optimus tried to ignore the way rage bubbled up inside him. “Please?”

_ “I don’t think so.”  _ Disappointment flooded into Optimus’ expression.  _ “See to the demands, Prime. And be quick about it, we don’t want to get bored and turn to your lovely pet for entertainment.”  _ Optimus wanted to hurl the datapad across the room. _ “We’ll be waiting.”  _ Rumble waved pleasantly. The feed cut to black and ended. 

A brief silence followed. Optimus closed his optics, sighing slowly. He hoped he was about to hear good news.

“We know where they are.” Arcee announced. Everyone looked to her. “I’ve been there before, with Cliffjumper. I recognize the lab.”

“They are in one of Shockwave’s abandoned laboratories.” Knock Out confirmed, nodding. “I’ve narrowed it down to two locations.”

“When were you in Shockwave’s lab?” Bumblebee asked.

She made a waving motion with her servo. “Way back, before we came to Earth. It was with his spacebridge that we made it there.”

“You’re certain?” Optimus was already rising from his seat. A nod answered him. “Then we leave immediately. Gather who you think will be of use.” He turned to Wheeljack. “May we use your ship?”   
  


“Anything for the Doc.” 

Kickback stood up and moved towards the door. “I’m going to call my buddies. They might have some additional firepower for us to borrow.” He announced as he stepped into the hallway.

“Bulkhead, I want you to stay and watch over the city while I am gone. That means covering for my duties as well as yours. Can I trust you?” Optimus regarded the green mech hopefully. The wrecker nodded, smiling at him. 

“Go get Ratch back.” 

“Arcee, you’re staying here.” Bumblebee was saying firmly to the two-wheeler. The femme huffily stood up and limped from the room, nodding and uttering good wishes to Optimus. 

The Prime’s battle mask slid over his face, and he was glad that it hid the way he chewed on his lip anxiously. “Autobots-,” he stopped himself, glancing at Kickback. “And Insecticons,” the buglike mech chuckled, “roll out.” 

On the way to the laboratory, Knock Out showed all of them a layout of the building, explaining everything he could. “There aren’t any cells here, so it’s likely Ratchet is still on that lab table, out in the open. We’ll have to be careful.” He warned.

“Are we going for stealth or are we storming the joint?” Wheeljack asked from the driver's seat.

“It would be best to sneak in, and catch them off guard. If we’re lucky, they won’t have any type of surveillance. Or guards. I doubt the laboratory is powered up, since it would risk us picking up the energy signal. Hopefully, they’ll be relying on our inability to find them.” Kickback was loading a blaster larger than his arm. “Optimus, what if they see us coming?” 

“We will have to prevent that from happening. There is no room for mistakes.” Optimus didn’t meet the Insecticon’s optics. He hadn’t been able to look at any of them for the entirety of the trip. His personal life had been thrown onto the table before everyone, and it burnt to have them see him in this weak, helpless state. 

“Boss?”

“Yes, Kickback?” 

The Insecticon patted his arm. “He’s going to be fine. We’re going to bring him back.” 

Optimus smiled under his mask.

Wheeljack landed the  _ Jackhammer  _ in a secluded, hidden clearing, and they slowly trekked in the direction of the lab. There, Wheeljack, Bumblebee and Knock Out would enter through an air vent and would get eyes inside, and they would go from there. Optimus, Kickback, and the few other friends he and Ratchet had made that had come waited outside, hidden, anxiously sitting in silence. 

_ “We’re in.”  _ Bumblebee updated him. He tightened his servo around his cannon. 

“There’s step one.” Kickback breathed.

Ten dreadful minutes passed, and the world was eerily silent. Optimus’ spark was pounding so hard it hurt. He wondered what Ratchet was thinking about right now. He longed to hold him, take his servo and lead him back to the ship, sweep him off his pedes and carry him to the medbay. . . Optimus ground his denta. It wasn’t often that his patience was tested like this.

_ “Optimus, we have a problem.”  _

His spark sank. “What’s wrong?”

_ “There’s nobody here, but. . . Just come inside. Knock Out has the code, once you’re at the door, he’ll give it to you.”  _

They entered the laboratory, hurrying down the black and yellow corridor and into the main chamber. There, Bumblebee was waiting beside a table- the table that Ratchet had been bound to. The restraints were still there, as was a fresh pool of energon. They were at the right place.

Optimus almost gagged in pure panic.

_ ‘Nice try’  _ was written in energon across the table. 

“They knew we were coming.” Wheeljack said quietly. 

A servo rested on Optimus’ shoulder, an attempt to comfort him, but Optimus didn’t react. “What do we do now?” Knock Out asked hesitantly.

  
“I. . .” Optimus swallowed dryly. “I review the demands.”    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you guys <3


	6. Cold, Dark and Lonely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, anyone wondering how our boo Ratchet is doing

The glowing of Ratchet’s spilt energon was the only light he had to guide him in the black, shadowy cell. It wasn’t like he could go far, his wrists were bound behind his back, and his ankles were cuffed together. The most he could do was scoot along the cold, dirty floor, smearing the energon along, dirtying his plating as he went. He wanted to get somewhere where he could see, just down the hall, through the barred door, but there was only blackness, and he couldn’t seem to find the door. The cell was big, and the floor was earthy and scratchy with rocks and dirt. Ratchet made a noise of frustration as he felt the rough soil stick to the wound on his thigh, where Rumble had stabbed him when he had been kidnapped. It hadn’t been treated or cleaned in any way, and with the filth of the cell getting in, was well on the way to infection. 

In a desperate scramble to abandon the first location, Rumble had sliced open his palm pressed a blaster to the back of his helm, ordering him to write a message across the table for his mate to find. This wound had been washed and wrapped once they arrived at the next hideout. 

Ratchet tried to calm his breathing, his spark pounding. He felt constant panic, trapped in pure black, unable to feel anything but the ground and his own blood. The first hours he had been in this prison, he had spent some time calling out and requesting to be kept somewhere that would better suit his condition. Skywarp had stormed into the cell, struck him, forced a rag into his mouth, and stormed back out. He was helpless. He wanted Optimus. 

He had to practice breathing exercises. All the panic wasn’t good for the sparkling, he had to calm down. 

_ Optimus will find us. _ The medic told himself. He curled around his stomach, a soft whimper of sadness leaving him. This wouldn’t be nearly as frightening as it was if he hadn’t been sparked. In that case, he would’ve fought them hard, resisting in every possible way, but now, all he wanted to do was protect the life inside him. He had to trust Optimus to save him now.  _ Your sire will find us. _ He insisted. 

The cell door opened behind him with a loud creak, and he froze. “Hey, Little Autobot. You’re much quieter now.” Skywarp drawled, and approaching footsteps made him jolt and try to scoot away. A clawed servo caught his arm and dragged him back. “Hold still.”

“Mmphh,” Ratchet’s protest was muffled by the rag as he was held there, twisting weakly against the grip. 

“I’ll cut one of your sensitive little hands off if you keep moving like that.” The seeker purred in his audial, teasing the sensors along Ratchet’s palm with a talon. Ratchet stiffened instantly, whimpering. “Medics and their servos.” Skywarp released his hold, only to close his servo around Ratchet’s throat, forcing his chin up, trapping his gaze upward. Ratchet wondered how the Decepticon was seeing so well in the dark. “I’m going to take the rag out. If you scream, I’ll hurt you. Understand?” The medic made a quiet noise of confirmation. “Good Little Autobot.” Claws pulled the dirty, foul tasting fabric from his mouth, and Ratchet coughed and gagged, gasping. 

“Please,” he rasped.

Skywarp chuckled, and there was shifting plating. Ratchet felt a wave of panic, bracing against the grip around his neck. There was a new glow, and he recognized a cube of energon. His frame slackened, relief replacing his sudden fear. “You’re fun to play with.” Skywarp pulled the cube from his subspace, before closing the plating. “So afraid. . . And they said you’d be uncontrollable.”

“I just want my sparkling to be safe.” Ratchet stared up at him as the glow of the cube lit up his face. His optics were covered by goggles. “Please. . . I can’t stay here. I won’t fight you, I just want to protect my sparkling.” 

“How pathetic. Open your mouth.” Skywarp was grinning, flashing pointed denta. 

Ratchet gasped as his throat was briefly crushed, the cube brought to his lips. He tried to turn his helm and resist, but Skywarp only squeezed harder, the cables beneath his servo groaning. He choked, squeezing his optics shut and obediently parting his lips to take the energon, trying to swallow in time with Skywarp’s rapid pouring. 

“Don’t spill a drop.” The seeker warned as he gagged. The medic made a noise of discomfort as he tried to keep up, whimpering pleadingly. Skywarp paid him no sympathy, forcing the contents of the entire cube down his throat without a break. When the seeker finally released him and pulled the cube away, Ratchet entered a coughing fit, choking miserably. “You can’t tell me that you’ve been fragging Optimus Prime all this time, but can’t take a cube of energon? That doesn’t follow.” Skywarp teased, chuckling. “A huge mech like that has got to be much harder to swallow.”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Ratchet snapped hoarsely. “Shut the frag up.” 

“I like you. You’re fun. I can’t wait for a session with you.” The ‘con tucked the empty cube back into his subspace. Ratchet bristled, mind going to certain conclusions. “Don’t get any ideas, I’m above fragging you filthy grounders,” Skywarp shuddered. “But cutting you open and making you beg for mercy while your mate watches. . .” He grinned, and the medic jolted as he reached towards him. “Let’s shut you up until next time.” 

“No-!”

The rag was forced in between his lips and denta, pressing his glossa down and triggering his gag reflex. His cries of protest were muffled, and Skywarp left wordlessly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:
> 
> Quill: SEX JOKES SEX JOKES SEX JO


	7. Walking Across Coals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule for tomorrow is busy so you guys get this chapter a little earlier.

The trip back to the city was silent. Defeat was heavy in the air, it was suffocating. Optimus felt sick as the others watched him carefully, exchanging looks of sympathy. They had failed to rescue Ratchet, and now their only card to play was seeing to the demands. Optimus prayed it would simply be a ransom, something they could quickly pay to return Ratchet safely. 

They made it back to the _Nemesis_ safely, where Optimus hurried to the datapad, where a document containing all of the demands waited. Everyone sat back down at the table, quiet, staring at him expectantly. Only moments after they had seated themselves, Bulkhead hurried in, taking his own seat and throwing down a datapad in frustration. “Everything is a damn mess,” he muttered. “You didn’t find him?”

“They knew we were coming, somehow.” Bumblebee crossed his arms. “They must have picked up the ship’s signal, somehow.”

“The _Jackhammer_ should’ve gone undetected. It’s signal can only be found by Autobot origin.” Wheeljack shook his helm. He reached into his subspace, and retrieved a glowing pink energon cube. Optimus stared at him sharply.

“Really? You’re going to get drunk _right now?”_ Arcee snapped. 

“I’m not going to get drunk, I’m going to have a drink.” The wrecker snapped right back, taking a long, defiant swig. 

“Obviously the _Jackhammer_ wasn’t cloaked, how else would they have known?” Kickback muttered, frustration clear on his features. “Did you forget to activate the cloaking system?”

Wheeljack took great offense to that, slamming the cube down and turning on the Insecticon quickly. “I wasn’t born yesterday, obviously I turned the fucking thing on,” he snarled.

“I don’t even know what ‘fucking’ is, but I do know that you just cost us getting Ratchet back!” Meeting his furious optics, Kickback pushed right back. “You had to have messed up the cloaking _somehow_ , they-”

“Let me stop you right there, I’m not taking criticism from a _bug,_ so don’t waste your breath.” The white mech raised a condescending servo to silence him. “You’re turbines are in a twist because Ratchet isn’t around for you to gawk at anymore, don’t pretend like you’re one of us.” 

“Jackie!” Bulkhead gaped. 

Optimus rose from his seat abruptly, halting the argument. “Enough, this behavior is unacceptable. Wheeljack, I do not want to hear you speak to Kickback, or _anyone_ , like this again. We have reached an age of acceptance, bigotry has no home here. Furthermore, I will not grant you a seat at the table if high grade is going to be involved.” He thundered, optics narrowing sharply. 

“Go cool off.” Bulkhead nudged the white mech, who refused to look away from Kickback. “Please.” 

As loud as possible, Wheeljack stood up, and stormed out, scoffing and muttering to himself. Kickback sighed, covering his face for a moment. “Should I also go?” He asked quietly. 

“No. Your presence has been helpful thus far.” Optimus shook his helm, tiredly crumbling back to his seat. He was exhausted, having not slept since the morning Ratchet was taken. 

“Maybe you should rest.” Bumblebee said kindly. 

The Prime shook his helm again, taking the datapad into his shaky servos and activating it. The screen lit up, and he found himself gazing at the list, anxiety pricking up in his field. Dread filled him, and his chest and throat felt painfully tight. They were bulleted, simple and clean, each demand written with details and deadlines just below. 

  * _Supply dark energon._ _Thousands of pounds worth, processed into cubes. Two weeks._


  * _Destroy the city._ _Tear down the new buildings._ _Rip apart the roads._ _Hand over all blueprints._ _Four weeks._


  * _Bring me the head of Predaking._ _Destroy the three living Predacons, and deliver Predaking’s helm to us._ _Three weeks._



“Why the frag do they want any of these?” Arcee questioned, shaking her head. 

“Considering who they are, it makes sense.” Bumblebee was tapping a digit against the table, blinking thoughtfully. “Rumble’s file describes him as a jealous opportunist. Dark energon worked so well for Megatron, it makes sense that someone trying to fill his shoes would take the same route. And with a band of ‘bots who are willing to give him anything he wants, why not have them gather the dark stuff?”

“Destroying the city is where revenge comes into play.” Knock Out jumped in. “He’s trying to build his own legacy, it’s fitting that he is trying to tear down everything Optimus is trying to build, and all of his achievements. He wants to break us back down.” 

“But why have us kill the Predacons?” Pointing at the last bullet point, Kickback asked. “I don’t see the point of sending us on a suicide mission.” 

“Rumble probably hopes that Optimus will be terminated in the process.” Bulkhead sighed.

“Remember that they are rogues. It’s dangerous to be out scavenging with the Predacons, perhaps they want us to make the world safer for them.” Bumblebee looked at Optimus. “What do you think?”

Optimus wasn’t worried about why they wanted these things, he was worried about his ability to provide them. How could he do any of this? How was he supposed to save Ratchet when this was his only option? 

He noticed with dread that the deadlines added up to nearly two months. Did they really plan on keeping Ratchet for that long? Ratchet was currently a month along in his gestation period, that would take him almost all the way to his due date, with a couple weeks to spare. Optimus rubbed his optics tiredly.

“We need to find him.” He said slowly. “I can’t go through with these demands. . . Destroying what we’ve built would take the homes away from hundreds of Cybertronians. I would be as evil as Megatron.” The others nodded in agreement. “And to kill the Predacons would only disprove what we have been fighting for.”

“That more than one race can coexist.” Bumblebee added. 

“So what do we do?” Kickback looked at Optimus. 

“Continue searching. We have two weeks to find Ratchet before we have to begin giving in to the demands.” Optimus looked at Knock Out. “Scan for signals every hour. If they move somewhere without their ship, we’ll pick it up.” He turned to Bumblebee. “You will gather a team and begin searching all of Shockwave’s dormant laboratories. They may have migrated to another.” 

Arcee spoke up before he could continue issuing orders. “Optimus. . . I know you don’t want to hear this, but what if we can’t find Ratchet, and we can’t give in to the demands?” 

She was right, Optimus didn’t want to hear that. The question that was implied was _what happens when we have to let Ratchet die?_ He set his jaw. “It will not come to that.”

“It’s going to come to a point where you have to choose between the city and Ratchet, Optimus.” She pushed.

Optimus stood up and quietly left the room. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


That night, Optimus took medication to force himself to recharge. He desperately needed the rest, and couldn’t do it on his own. He dreamt of introducing his sparkling to Team Prime, proudly showing off his creation. He dreamt of trusting Bumblebee to babysit, and taking Ratchet on a romantic night out under the stars. 

He woke with tears streaming down his cheeks. The datapad was beeping with an incoming transmission. Optimus sat up, desperately wiping coolant off of his face, and rising to look at the datapad. Rumble was calling him again. He pondered calling a meeting, but impatience got the better of him, and he sat down at a table, answering the transmission. 

The feed lit up with Rumble’s gleaming red visor, the small mech had a haunting look on his face. He was grinning devilishly, smug and satisfied. _“Good morning!”_

“Rumble,” Optimus said quietly, in a calm greeting. Behind the small purple ‘con, Ratchet was standing, servos behind his back, gagged and blindfolded. Skywarp and Thundercracker held him in place. 

_“Boys, say hi.”_ Rumble called gleefully to the seekers.

_“Hello, Prime. It’s so_ nice _to hear from you.”_

_“Greetings, Ratchet here is surely happy to hear your voice.”_

“I have reviewed your demands.” The Prime chewed on the inside of his cheek.

_“And?”_

“. . . And I will comply.” This wasn’t necessarily true, Optimus was desperately searching for them and had made no move to comply. They didn’t need to know that. 

Rumble beamed. _“That’s good to hear, but I am sad to say that it’s not the reason we called.”_ His expression turned dark. _“I am so disappointed that you jeopardized your sweet little mate. Attempting an attack, really? With his life on the line? How rude.”_ He crossed his arms, and Optimus felt nauseous. _“It was a nice try to rescue Ratchet, but you messed up bad. I’m sorry to say that I must punish you for it.”_

Optimus felt like he was suffocating in dread, it became hard to breathe. “Rumble, I understand. I should not have tested you like I did.” He offered desperately, frantic to appeal to the small mech. “I was frightened, I didn’t know if you were hurting him. I will not test you again.” 

_“I’m sure you won’t, especially after this.”_ Rumble stepped fully aside, and Optimus gagged on his own panic. 

On the ground before Ratchet and the two seekers was a small stretch of glowing embers, covered by orange, fiery bars. It resembled a grill, something humans would barbeque hamburgers on, only this was built for weapon makers, with synthetic fire strong enough to melt cybertronium down to a thin liquid. It glowed with heat, orange, yellow and red, sparks drifting upward. It was wide enough for one mech to walk across, a perfect walkway for about seven strides. The glow reflected on Ratchet’s pearly white armor, and he looked pretty in that lighting. Optimus wished he could’ve seen it in a different situation. 

_“Let’s hear Mama-bot, then.”_

Thundercracker pulled the gag from Ratchet’s mouth, and he coughed. 

Rumble drawled to him sweetly, _“Anything to say, my dear?”_

Ratchet looked in the small mech’s direction blindly. _“Get fragged.”_ He spat. Thundercracker growled and jerked his arm. 

_“Don’t worry about it, Thunder. His attitude will change in one moment.”_ Rumble chuckled, gesturing to the seekers. They both took Ratchet by his upper arms, holding him firmly in between them. _“Now start walking, Mama.”_

“Don’t hurt him, I’m sorry,” Optimus sputtered. “Don’t do this. I won’t do it again. Please, don’t harm him.” 

The seekers nudged Ratchet forward, and he took small, hesitant steps, before his pedes felt the blistering heat and he halted. _“Walk, Little Autobot.”_ Skywarp purred. 

“Please don’t do this,” Optimus was ashamed that he was begging, but he didn’t know what else to do. 

The seekers forcefully dragged Ratchet into a step, and one pede landed on the grill. He jolted and made to step back off, but they held him stationary. A cry left him, and there was a sickening sizzling sound. The ‘cons pulled him onward, forcing him to take the next step, fully on the grill. Ratchet screamed, knees buckling, but the seekers didn’t let him fall, only forced him to remain on his burning pedes. 

_“Keep walking, Ratchet.”_ Rumble encouraged smugly. 

Optimus jolted as his mate screamed in pure agony, struggling against Skywarp and Thundercracker as they guided him through slow strides across the glowing path. “Please, stop!” He pleaded. 

_“That’s it, you’re doing so good, keep screaming just like that,”_ Skywarp was speaking to Ratchet with a cruel smirk. _“You should see the look on his face. . . Do you hear him begging for you?”_

_“S-Stop!”_ The medic gasped between shrieks. _“Stop, I can’t-!”_

They were almost to the end of the path, moving at an agonizingly slow pace. “You’re going to damage him too much, please, Rumble _stop_!” Optimus had to raise his voice to be heard over the disgusting sizzling and Ratchet’s cries. 

_“Beg for Optimus to save you.”_ Thundercracker ordered as the seekers stopped, forcing him to stand still on the burning iron. Ratchet shifted between his two pedes, shaking his helm and shouting in pain. _“We’ll stop, but you have to tell him how much you want to be saved.”_

Optimus was shaking with rage as the camera zoomed in on Ratchet’s face. Tears were dripping from beneath the blindfold, and he was gnawing on the inside of his cheek to suppress his wails of torture. _“O-Optimus, please, help. . . S-Save me, please. . !”_ Ratchet forced out, shaking as his knees begged to give out. He was promptly pulled off of the grill, and released. He crumbled to the floor, gasping and sobbing pain. 

_“Well, there’s that.”_ Thundercracker chuckled, crossing his arms and staring down at the medic. 

_“He screams so pretty. I look forward to spending more time with him.”_ Skywarp purred, unceremoniously flipping Ratchet over onto his back, lifting his leg to examine one of his burnt pedes.

_“N-No-. . .”_ Ratchet whimpered, squirming weakly.

Skywarp raked his claws through the burn wound, sending hot energon running down Ratchet’s leg. The medic screamed in pain, jolting and thrashing to get away from him. 

“Please, stop, please stop hurting him!” Optimus wanted to scream and and strike them down and hold his mate, tears welling up in his optics. 

_“You won’t try me again, will you?”_ Rumble grinned, stepping into the frame and kneeling beside Ratchet to stroke his expecting middle. Ratchet shuddered, shaking his helm again.

_“Don’t touch it. . .”_ He choked out, struggling to calm his breathing. His voice was hoarse from screaming. 

_“Relax my dear, I don’t want to hurt your sparkling. You only have your mate to blame for this.”_ The small mech purred, rubbing his stomach. Optimus bristled.

“You’ve made your point.” He said weakly. “Please, leave him alone. 

_“Optimus,”_ Ratchet spoke quickly so they wouldn’t stop him, _“I love you.”_ Skywarp stuffed the rag back into his mouth roughly, and he didn’t resist, too exhausted to struggle. 

“I’m going to free you, Ratchet. Please, stay strong. I love you, both of you.” Optimus ignored the shuffle of them dragging Ratchet away, his spark swelling. 

_“See to the demands, Prime.”_ The feed ended. 

Optimus set the datapad down and let tears run down his cheeks, covering his face and crying into his large servos. His shoulders shook. This was hopeless, he didn’t know what to do. He wanted his mate and sparkling more than anything. If they couldn’t find Ratchet before the deadline, he would have to choose between him, and the city’s growth. 

If he destroyed what they’d built, he would be ripping homes away from innocent, uninvolved Cybertronians. 

If he brought them dark energon, he could be signing up for another war against the undead, and indestructible forces. 

If he slaughtered the Predacons, he’d lose teammates in the process, and he would start the new era with the genocide of an innocent species. 

But he didn’t want to lose Ratchet. 

There was a knock on the door. He jolted, gasping and furiously wiping his optics. He wouldn’t be seen like this. Quickly, he went to the washracks and rinsed his face off, before rushing to the door and opening it. Wheeljack stood in the doorway. He narrowed his optics. 

“Hey, Chief.” The wrecker smiled weakly. His field was dull and calm, and Optimus thought he noticed shame. “I wanted to apologize for everything I said yesterday. All I did was make your job harder, I just. . . I care about Ratch, and I’m scared for him.”

Optimus shifted his weight. “I understand, Wheeljack. I appreciate you doing this.”

“And I wanted you to know. . . I really didn’t frag up the cloaking, I would never lie about that.”

“Noted, Wheeljack.” The Prime nodded, venting. “Please remain in check, at least until we find him.”

“Sure thing, Chief.” 


	8. Old Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi welcome back to Optimus doesn't know what the fuck he's doing

Optimus didn’t think he had ever cried this much. Even when Megatronus betrayed him, even when he lost Alpha Trion. War had done a number on him, but it had never been this personal. His spark was being ripped from his chest. 

The first deadline was approaching quickly. Every day, Optimus prayed that a signal would pop up, that one of the sites they searched would be the one. His prayers were never answered. Every single attempt was met with failure. 

Five days before the first deadline, Optimus caved. He had paced in his quarters for hours prior, deciding if he was really going through with this. He just had to buy more time to find Ratchet. 

Bitter with defeat, Optimus called together a group to return to Earth and begin gathering dark energon. The volcano where he had battled Megatron, just before Unicron’s awakening, was teeming with the dark substance, and he was certain there would be enough there. It was decided that they would keep this discrete, the new habitants wouldn’t know that tons of dark energon were being transported to Cybertron to be processed. 

Ultra Magnus led the expedition, gathering the strongest they could that could handle the exposure. They took shifts harvesting it and sending it home, where Optimus personally assisted with processing and counting. 

It took two days of hard work, and every mech involved spent the night in the infirmary, where Knock Out tended to them. The heavy exposure had caused dizziness and nausea, and they couldn’t stay on their pedes for long. Optimus visited them and thanked them for their service profusely. 

Optimus had to be drugged to sleep every night. Rest was impossible. He would pace and cry for hours on end in the privacy of his quarters on the  _ Nemesis,  _ drowning in his hopelessness. 

Every morning, the datapad would light up with videos and images and voice recordings. They hadn’t tortured Ratchet since the failed rescue mission, but had made sure to let the threat linger in the air. Optimus received many pictures of Ratchet, bound tight, with a blade to his throat. The seekers liked to pose with him. They would wrap chains around his neck, force him to beg for mercy, threaten to burn him again. Every morning, Optimus would grow sick and purge his tanks. They weren’t hurting Ratchet, outside of striking him whenever he fought back, but they were horribly mistreating him. They were scaring him. 

Optimus hadn’t been able to speak to him. He missed hearing him laugh and seeing him smile. He had taken to flicking through pictures of him every morning before he left his quarters, it motivated him for the day. 

Three days before the deadline, Bumblebee called a meeting. 

Optimus was the last to join them at the table. The scout had a look of stress. “We have a problem.” He looked at the Prime, round optics whirling. “Megatron’s signal has popped up again, and hasn’t disappeared. He’s closer than before.” Everyone exchanged looks of surprise. “The dark energon. . . He must have felt it’s presence. There’s a lot of it here now, it has to have attracted him. He’s probably here to investigate.” 

“Frag!” Wheeljack cursed.

“That’s a problem.” Arcee sighed. “We can’t have him near the city.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to be found. He could easily be warded off, if we send a group to scare him away.” Kickback offered, turning to Optimus. “We ought to chase him off, right?”

Optimus’ processor was racing. “If he is involved with Rumble. . .” He began slowly.

“I highly doubt it.” Knock Out said skeptically.

“But if he is,” Bulkhead was anxiously tapping the table.

“We can get all the information we need to save Ratchet from him.” Wheeljack smirked a little. “Cortical psychic patch is still on board. All we need to do is catch him.” 

“Even if he isn’t involved, he probably knows  _ something  _ useful.” Bumblebee nodded in agreement. “He may have even seen something while he’s been out scavenging. A ship passing by, unusual activity. . .” He watched Optimus, waiting for his decision.

The Prime felt a flicker of hope, deep in his chest. “Taking Megatron into custody may be our best hope for finding Ratchet.” He looked around at the lot of them. “We will aim to capture him, without doing harm. He won’t want to come easily. Sedation may be required.” 

“If Knocks can provide me with tranquilizers, I have a gun that can fire them.” Kickback offered, nodding to Knock Out.

“Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Ultra Magnus will join us. The rest of you will remain to watch over the city.” Optimus rose from his seat. His spark was pounding. “Knock Out, prepare a cell for interrogation.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Ultra Magnus drove them to Megatron’s location, quiet and grim as Optimus spoke to the team. “He may attempt to flee. We’ll have to gain his attention and keep it, long enough for Kickback to get an accurate shot.” He turned to the Insecticon, thinking for a moment. “Bumblebee, I’d like you to be the one to fire. Megatron may become angry upon seeing you. If you are the one to shoot, he won’t see you until it’s too late.” 

“Does he hate Bee?” Kickback asked, handing the gun over to the scout. 

“Bee’s the one that terminated him, before Unicron brought him back.” Bulkhead answered dryly. 

“We’re here.” Ultra Magnus called. 

The ship landed, and Optimus’ battle mask slid on. He hadn’t seen Megatron for some time, and wondered if Megatron would immediately try to run. The platform hissed to life, lowering, delivering the team onto the surface, Bumblebee tucked behind Kickback and Bulkhead. 

They were in a vast mess of wreckage of crumbled buildings, and Optimus thought for a moment that they had missed their target. Ultra Magnus murmured to him, “He’s here, he’s hiding.” 

Optimus stepped off the platform, remaining unarmed. He walked calmly, taking a few strides forward before stopping. “Megatron, I would like to speak to you.” 

A tall, spiked figure emerged from behind a wall of rubble. Red, gleaming optics met Optimus’, and they watched one another. The monster of a mech sent a chill down the Prime’s backstrut; he hadn’t seen him for some time. Even now, the warlord had a thrilling presence about him. “Be swift, Prime.” Megatron warned in a low voice. “I am wary of capture, as it seems you brought an entire team just to ‘talk.’” 

“You’ve been closing in on our city.” Optimus heard the shifting of plating, of Bumblebee getting into position.

“And you’ve been harvesting dark energon. Has the high and mighty Prime had a change of morals?” The warlord sneered, squaring his large shoulders. 

Optimus bristled at the implication. “I have my reasons. As I’m certain you did.” He frowned. “Though, I aim for restoration, as opposed to destruction.” Bumblebee was sneaking forward. 

“And you’ve begun working with Insecticons, I see.” Megatron’s gaze found Kickback. “You’ve always attracted blind followers.” 

The Insecticon huffed, puffing out his chest. “Funny, we see it differently.” 

“Tell me, Insecticon, has Optimus come to execute me?” Smirking and flashing pointed denta, Megatron chuckled. “He'll have to be much wiser than this, if he desires to catch me with my guard down."

"I have no desire to terminate you, Megatron." The Prime said evenly. "I only wish to talk."

"And what do you want to talk about, Prime?"

"Let's start with where Ratchet is being hidden." Bulkhead hissed, taking a threatening step forward.

There was a flicker of confusion in Megatron's optics. "What are-"

Bumblebee stepped aside and fired. The dart struck Megatron’s thigh, and he jolted in surprise, swatting it off with a snarl. He wound back a step, his fusion cannon activating with a loud whirr. “Strike him down until it kicks in!” Bumblebee shouted, ducking to the side as a blast narrowly missed him. Optimus surged forward, tackling the furious gladiator in a swift attempt to disarm him. Megatron howled in fury, claws raking across Optimus’ plating, scrabbling for a good hold. Energon ran down the Prime’s arm as he struggled to pin Megatron, gasping in pain. 

“Don’t fight,” he breathed, trapping the fusion cannon against the ground. Megatron’s talons sliced into his lower torso, and he cried out. “We need your help. Don’t resist.” He hissed as he strained against the intense struggling. 

“I’ll rip your spark out,” the warlord barked, but his movements were slowing down. He fought hard, thrashing against Optimus, managing to writhe and kick him back, only to be slammed down harder by Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus. 

Optimus stood up, wincing. Energon was dripping off of him, deep gauges along his armor. Megatron spat curses at him as he thrashed against the two large mechs, slowly weakening in their hold. “We got him.” Kickback appeared at his side. “Only a few more moments, now.”

“Knock Out gave us one strong sedative.” Bumblebee observed. 

“He’s one strong mech.” Bulkhead grunted as Megatron braced against him.

Megatron finally fell limp, shifting weakly in the forced stasis. Ultra Magnus and Bulkhead cuffed his wrists, and carefully dragged him towards the ship. Optimus was silent on the trip back.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Megatron came to in an all too familiar environment. He almost laughed at the irony. Here he was, in a cell of his own warship, in the dimly lit greyness where he had tortured so many. He was seated in a chair, wrists cuffed to the arms tightly. A table was in front of him, and an empty chair across from him. So it was an interrogation. He wondered if they would torture him. 

“I’m awake, let’s get started, then. I don’t enjoy being kept waiting.” He announced loudly, glancing at the camera in the corner of the cell. A joyless smile crossed his scarred lips as the door opened, and Optimus strode in. 

There was something different about him. His shoulders sagged, and he didn’t walk with the same collected power he usually had. His optics were faded with exhaustion. Megatron wondered what it was that broke his enemy. 

“You look horrible.” He sneered. 

Optimus said nothing as he sat down at the table, setting a datapad down. The chair creaked under his weight. He tiredly activated the datapad, optics skimming over a long bulleted list, before he finally looked up at Megatron. “I am going to ask for your honesty and cooperation.” He said softly.

Megatron quirked an optic ridge. “Explain why I am here, Prime.” 

“This is your opportunity to willingly tell me where Ratchet is.” Optimus’ voice was firm and had a sense of threat to it. He searched Megatron’s face, frowning. 

“Did you lose your little lapdog?” Scoffing, the warlord leaned forward to hiss in a mocking tone. “I warned you to keep him on a leash.” 

The Prime didn’t react. “Do not feign ignorance, Megatron.”

“You asked for my honesty, Prime. I am giving it to you. I have no idea where your pet ran off to.” Megatron flashed his pointed denta, optics flashing. He found himself caught off guard when Optimus looked away for a moment, optics whirling in sadness. There was a moment of tense silence. “What happened?” Curiously, Megatron asked. 

Optimus leaned back in his chair, venting slowly. He debated telling the warlord the truth. “Ratchet has been kidnapped by a band of rogue Decepticons.” He admitted blandly. 

The warlord made an unreadable noise. “Why would anyone do that?” 

The Prime’s optics met his. “Ratchet is sparked.” Optimus watched his reaction closely. Megatron’s features pulled in an expression of surprise, and a curious look. “Mine.” Optimus answered the unspoken question.

Megatron chuckled darkly, shaking his helm. “Your pet is being held for a ransom, and you think I have something to do with it.” 

“Or that you may know something.” 

“Even if I did know where he’s been taken, what makes you think I would help you?” Sneering viciously, Megatron leaned back in the chair, tapping his claws. 

Optimus clasped his servos. “As you know, the cortical psychic patch is on this warship. I will get the information somehow, but how I receive it is in your control.” He threatened slowly. “I want you to tell me what you know about the mechs involved, and where they may be hiding.” He pushed the datapad across the table, into Megatron’s view. 

Megatron leaned forward, optics darting back and forth as he skimmed it. A laugh escaped him. “Your lapdog was taken by  _ Rumble _ ? How pathetic.” He smirked at Optimus. “And you’ve already failed a rescue attempt. . . So sad.” 

“Tell me what you know.” Optimus pushed. “And if you have seen anything. You must tell me everything.” 

“Why should I help you? Why is it my problem that you carelessly threw your weight around?” The warlord rolled his optics dramatically. “The fact of the matter is, you put a sparkling in your whore medic, without considering the target you’d be putting on his head. And now you want to throw the blame onto me, because that was so easy to do during the war. But times have changed, haven’t they? You can’t blame me anymore, you did this to Ratchet all on your own.” His optics flashed with satisfaction as Optimus cringed. 

“You are not at all involved?”

“I have no interest in revenge, Prime.” He shook his helm. “This may surprise you, but I am above terminating a sparkling. Even one that belongs to the likes of  _ you. _ ” He spat the last word with hatred.

Optimus gritted his denta. “Do you know anything that can assist us in finding him?” 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I have no desire to help you?” Megatron was growing visibly frustrated. 

“Do you?” 

_ “Optimus!” _

__ The Prime’s com rang, and he turned away for a moment. “Yes?”

_ “Bribe him. He’s got to know something. He wouldn’t be pushing your buttons if he didn’t.”  _ Bumblebee’s voice was excited. 

Optimus frowned deeply. This interrogation wasn’t going well. He sighed slowly. “Megatron, can you help?” As the warlord went to speak, he clarified: “I am not asking if you will or not. I want to know if you can.”

Megatron seemed to ponder the question. “Suppose I can. What is in it for me?” He smirked slowly. Optimus felt sick.

“What do you want?”

Leaning forward to reread the datapad, Megatron thought for a moment. “This isn't an easy task, Prime. From the looks of it, they know how to cover their tracks. If I am to help you, I will need access to all your resources. I will not find your mate while locked in a cell. Grant me freedom to roam on  _ my  _ ship." He spoke carefully. "I want access to my quarters." That made sense. He had lost everything when Bumblebee terminated him. Regaining that would make a difference to a scavenger.

"Your room was left untouched." Optimus nodded. "Anything else?"

" _ Obviously,  _ Optimus." Megatron snapped. "I want unlimited access to the city's energon supply." Optimus silently wondered how hard it was, scavenging for energon with little access to processors. "When this is done, I want to leave with a supply of my own. You certainly have the energon to spare. And you  _ will  _ be letting me leave, when it's all over," his fiery optics narrowed, "Or I'll rip out your mate's spark myself." 

Optimus felt a shiver coming on. Did he want to involve this mech, when he had no problem turning around and hurting Ratchet himself? "There is an issue of trust, Megatron." He said sternly. "I am hesitant to grant you free rein of my city."

"And I am hesitant to walk into your web of lies," the warlord hissed. "How do I know that you'll ever let me free? That you don't plan on imprisoning me forever?" 

"There is much on the line. If it means that Ratchet is returned safely, I am more than willing to release you." Optimus gestured calmly. "You have my word." 

Megatron scoffed at that, shaking his helm. "Thank Primus for that." He muttered sarcastically.

"If I am to trust you to freely roam the city, then you are to trust that I will make good on our deal." Optimus offered. "Are we in agreement?" 

"I get free reign, access to resources, and a supply to live off of when I leave." When Optimus nodded, Megatron grinned slowly. "Well, Prime, let's find your lost pet." 

The Prime bristled, and he responded sharply, "Do not speak about him that way anymore. You cannot see him as an object. Megatron, he is my mate, and I will not allow you to treat him this way, not anymore." He inhaled deeply. "He and my sparkling are not to be disrespected while you are here."

"Finally standing up for him, are we?" Megatron chuckled softly. "You've grown a spine, Optimus. Untie me." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The table was tense and silent. Megatron's towering presence was overwhelming, even while he was seated beside Kickback and Optimus. Everyone's optics were locked on Optimus. He could feel  _ judgment.  _ Several of those present had argued against Megatron’s terms, and were horrified that Optimus was playing to his demands. But he couldn't find a reason to care. He'd do anything to save his mate. 

Bumblebee had been the most understanding. Despite everything he held against the cruel warlord, he had been the most civil, and very willing to cooperate. "You're the only one among us who  _ knows  _ these mechs." He pointed to images of Rumble, and the pair of seekers. Datapads were scattered across the table. "What can you tell us about them?"

Megatron tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I have a hard time believing Rumble put this together." He stared at the small mech's file with disdain. "Even at his best, he's no leader. Never in my life have I heard him say something remotely intelligent. And the seekers. . . Skywarp and Thundercracker are strong Decepticons, but both of them are followers."

"What are you saying?"

"I believe that someone else is pulling the strings. They have a leader that is running this operation, one that you haven't seen." Megatron laid it out simply. "Those three can't be doing this alone." 

"How does that help us?" Arcee snapped. 

Red optics locked on her, but Megatron didn't retort. "I have access to potential hideaways. Starscream, Skywarp and Thundercracker worked together for some time. There are seeker bases scattered over Cybertron, and by accessing Starscream's logs, we can begin searching those. If we find out whoever is running this, accessing their file could unveil potential hideaways as well. Everything comes down to who these Decepticons associated with early on." He broke the searing contact with Arcee to look at Optimus. 

Optimus was relieved that he was here. Already, his presence was paying off. "Thank you. Your intel is helpful." He murmured gratefully. 

"I need an exact timeline of everything that has happened." The warlord ignored his thanks. 

"Something that isn't on there is the fact that my building was sabotaged." Bulkhead piped up bitterly. "Someone blew the foundation the day that Ratchet was taken."

That seemed to spark Megatron’s interest. "A distraction of sorts." He nodded slowly. 

"You think they are connected?" Kickback looked at him, visor flashing sadly. 

"Assurance that Optimus would be kept away from home." Wheeljack sighed, long and slow. "But wait. . . How did they know Optimus wouldn't be home, but Ratchet would?" He looked up thoughtfully. 

Megatron went silent as a few ideas were aimlessly pitched. 

"They are damn lucky that Ratchet wasn't called to the scene to help." Arcee pointed out. "Perhaps they had been spying, and memorized their schedules?"

"They knew that we wouldn't bring a sparked mech into that environment." Bumblebee was fidgeting in his chair, thinking hard. "They would've had to be watching for a long time. . . And how would they have gotten a grenade into the work site without being seen? There are hundreds of 'bots here, someone would've caught them in the act."

Megatron’s optics were on Optimus now. "I need to speak with you. Privately." He said firmly. 

The Prime hid his surprise, nodding and rising from his seat. "We will return shortly." He dismissed himself, and Megatron followed him into the hall. "What is it?" He asked quietly.

Megatron seemed hesitant, a grim seriousness on his scarred face. "Optimus, this is something you aren't going to want to hear, but. . ." He glanced around briefly. "They have a mech on the inside."

Optimus narrowed his optics. "How do you-"

"Think about it. Whoever took Ratchet  _ knew  _ your schedule. How else would they have known when to strike? They knew you wouldn't be home, and they knew to create a distraction to keep you away. Bumblebee is right, none of the three we know of could've sabotaged the worksite without being seen. Whoever destroyed the building got in without suspicion." His tone held a sense of excitement to it. "Furthermore, when you attempted a rescue, they  _ knew  _ you were coming. They were able to evacuate fast. Someone had to have told them." 

Optimus' processor was reeling.

"Someone has betrayed you, Prime."

Inhaling deeply, Optimus nodded. "That would make sense, but I don't have an idea of who it may be. It can't be anyone in that room, I know and trust all of them. Most of them were members of Team Prime. Furthermore, none of them should have our schedules memorized, it changes constantly." He thought for a moment. "We will ask each one of them who they have told about the situation. It could be a friend that they confided in. Knock Out told Arcee in the medbay, someone may have overheard. Wheeljack could've let something slip while having high grade." 

"In any case, there's a mole, and we need to find them." Megatron crossed his arms, searching Optimus' optics. "Discreetly. If they feel in danger, Ratchet is lost." 

"We won't tell them, for now. We will create a list of names of those who know about the situation, and go from there." Optimus felt a sting of betrayal. Someone he had welcomed into the city was here to hurt him and his mate. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Commanding Starscream for all the time that I did taught me well. I will find that mole." The warlord brushed past him and slipped back into the room. 

Optimus rubbed his optics, sighing. "I'm going to find you, Old Friend." He murmured, more to himself than anyone. 

There was a spark of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mm yes I'm here for Detective Megatron


	9. Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's events include: Kickback battles with racism

The day the first deadline ended, Rumble contacted Optimus. Per usual, Ratchet was behind him, bound on his knees in between the seekers.  _ “Let’s see if your mate did his job.”  _ The small mech drawled over his shoulder to the medic. A glare answered him.  _ “Well, Optimus?” _

__ “We have harvested and processed two thousand pounds of dark energon.” The Prime held a cube up as evidence. It glowed violet in his servo. “How do you plan on collecting the supply?” Across from him, Bumblebee was ready to write down the details. Megatron had suggested an ambush. 

_ “Unfortunately, we cannot trust you to perform a rendezvous. I’m sure you’ve been debating on an ambush, or a stealth team to follow us home.”  _ Rumble quirked an optic ridge, smirking.  _ “I can’t hand you an opportunity to swipe for your mate.” _

__ Optimus frowned. “Then how do you suppose I deliver the supply to you?” 

_ “You won’t. You’ll do us a favor by holding onto it, for now. When the time comes,  _ if  _ you follow through, you will hand over the supply when I return your mate to you.”  _ There was a giddy flash in his visor.  _ “That dark energy reading will draw in a lot of attention, won’t it? I wonder what incoming Cybertronians will think when they find their high and mighty Prime, collecting dark energon.”  _

Ah. Rumble wished to drag Optimus’ name through the mud. Optimus sighed slowly. “Will you negotiate?”

_ “No, but I can always consult Mama-bot, if that will motivate you,”  _ at the implication, Skywarp reached forward to drag a talon down Ratchet’s cheek. 

“Very well.” Optimus said quickly, venting in relief as Skywarp stopped immediately. “I will see to your other demands.” 

_ “Very good, Prime.”  _ The feed ended. 

“Damn it!” Bumblebee groaned. “There goes that plan. I thought Megatron said he wasn’t smart.” 

The door opened then, and Knock Out casually strutted in, setting a bottle in front of the scout. He didn’t explain himself until the two were done talking. 

“Megatron believes that there is someone else behind the scenes.” Optimus set the datapad down and rose to his pedes. “Do you know where he is?”

“Early this morning, he was sending patrols to the abandoned seeker bases for reconnaissance. I haven’t heard anything else.” 

“Thank you.” 

Bumblebee turned his attention to the bottle of polish before him. “Where did you get this?” He picked it up and read over the label a couple times in disbelief. “Knock Out, this stuff hasn’t been in production since years  _ before  _ the war. I never thought I’d see it again.” 

The red medic beamed, plopping a basket down on the table. Beneath a giant red bow, there was an assortment of bottles. Optimus had never been the preening type, and didn’t recognize any of the brands, but the look on Bumblebee’s face was enough to tell him that these were a big deal. “I never thought I’d see any of these. It’s been eons upon eons since I’ve had cosmetics of this quality, back in the day, this scrap was  _ expensive.  _ Elites from all around would come to cosmetic shops to be groomed with this absolute  _ treasure. _ ” Optimus didn’t think he had ever seen Knock Out speak so passionately.

Bumblebee sifted through the basket. “Where did you get these?” He demanded. “They’ve been out of stock since the war, and there aren’t any factories up and running yet.”

“This was all a gift. I have some friends that saved these all this time, and they were kind enough to pool together for a surprise.” Knock Out swooned. “Not to boast, but I’ve worked my way into a lot of sparks as of late.” 

“Who?” Bumblebee pressed.

“Some mechs, family and friends of one of the mechs I helped save after the building collapsed. They are all very sweet, they’ve been volunteering in the medbay ever since. It’s real helpful since Ratchet isn’t around right now.” 

Optimus didn’t voice the fact that he disliked how a random family had replaced his mate in the medbay. He knew it was unreasonable resentment, and they were just being helpful. 

Bumblebee thanked Knock Out profusely for the bottle, before turning his attention back to Optimus. “So. . . What now?”

“I need time to consider.” Optimus pushed his seat in, leaving the room quietly. The two stared after him.

The next demand on the list was the destruction of the city, and was no easy task. Four weeks to destroy everything they built was far from generous. If Optimus had to do it, he would need to start immediately. He decided to give himself three days to decide, three days for Megatron to find Ratchet. He didn’t want to have to choose between the city and Ratchet. The city dwellers had been kept in the dark, and had no idea what the Prime was going through. If it came to tearing down everything, they would have to be informed. In that case, discovering the mole would be much harder.

Optimus had compiled a list of everyone who knew. It consisted of everyone who was present at the meetings, those who may have overheard Knock Out in the medbay, and the friends the Autobots had made. It wasn’t too long, and Megatron insisted it would be easiest that way. They would knock people off as they went. Optimus was certain that it wasn’t anyone who had been in the meetings, as they were all close friends of him and Ratchet. Megatron suspected them despite that. 

Megatron was in his quarters when Optimus visited him, sitting at his desk and scribbling things down. Optimus sat down across from him silently. “Knock Out is easily bribed.” The warlord thought out loud. “It was a consistent problem on Earth.” 

“He has been loyal to Ratchet and I for some time.” Despite that, his new basket of goods came to mind. Optimus tried not to get caught on it. 

“His loyalties change.” Megatron looked up at him, narrowing his optics. “He betrayed both Starscream and me. He easily could have done the same to you.” He sat back in his chair. “I’m going to interrogate him.”

Optimus winced. “Is that necessary?”

“We have to keep all possibilities open.” Megatron nodded. 

Changing the subject, the Prime asked, “What results have the patrols yielded?” 

“Nothing. The seeker bases have been dormant for eons.” Growling, the warlord shook his helm. “I know someone else is to blame for this, but I can’t find them until I know who.”

“There are still more potential hideaways that we haven’t searched.” Optimus said hopefully.

“I’ll have them all searched by next week.” Megatron was on top of everything, and Optimus felt grateful that he was present. “Bumblebee informed me that the ambush isn’t happening.” 

“Rumble predicted our next move.”

Raising an optic ridge, the warlord rumbled, “Whoever is  _ leading  _ Rumble predicted that.” His optics found the list, and his expression hardened. “I am going to interrogate everyone. Perhaps even use the patch. It is one of these mechs, and I will find which. Starting with Knock Out.” He ignored Optimus’ unhappy look. “I am going to turn this place upside down looking for that mole.” 

“How long will it be?”

“Judging by your time restrictions, not fast enough to save the city. This has to be done carefully, we can’t chase the mole off.” Megatron watched his expression closely. He didn’t bother being delicate. “So are you going to sacrifice Ratchet for the city, or rip your world apart?”

Optimus closed his optics, a pang of sadness pulsing in his spark. “I can’t lose him.” He admitted weakly. “And to lose the first sparkling born after the war. . .”

“Hopefully, your new followers hold the same values.” Megatron rose from his seat. “You need to prepare for deconstruction, in the event that we can’t find Ratchet in time. I suggest that you focus on taking care of your city, and allow me to work.” 

“I can’t stand aside while you work to save my mate.”

“But you will.” The warlord said simply. “I am going to have a little conversation with Knock Out.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Three days yielded nothing helpful, and Optimus had no choice but to begin with deconstruction. Hesitantly, he stepped down and allowed Megatron to run the case of rescuing Ratchet, and he turned all of his attention to the city. Kickback led a group to clear a site, and prepare to move Cybertronians into tents, temporary homes while the city was being torn down. The Insecticon worked hard in creating resources for those losing their homes, building tents and rationing out living spaces to be filled. Bulkhead began tearing up the roads farthest from the center of the city. Optimus personally saw to it that everyone understood that they were to pack everything they had and be ready to move to their temporary home. He also helped with the heavy lifting, taking it upon himself that he assisted as much as he can in deconstructing the roads. The apartment building would be the last one to crumble, he would procrastinate for as long as possible. 

When he wasn’t working, Optimus was decorating his home. It made him feel somewhat better to be preparing for Ratchet’s return. He put together bouquets to lighten up the berthroom, and painted crystals on the walls. In the sparkling’s nursery, he painted flowers. He hung an Autobot flag in the main living space. 

He hoped that Ratchet would like it.

Optimus was surprised to hear a knock at the door. Nobody took the time to walk to his home, if he was needed, they would call him. He set his paintbrush down and made his way to the door. 

Kickback was on his porch with a basket. He smiled timidly. “Hey, Optimus. I thought you might like some company.”

Optimus wanted very badly to turn him away. This was his alone time, this was his time to cry and show his emotions. But there was something on Kickback’s face that compelled him to indulge. “Come in.” The Insecticon had brought two cubes of high grade. They settled in the nursery, where Optimus showed him images of flowers from Earth. Kickback picked up a brush and started helping him paint. They spent most of the time in silence, sipping energon and painting away, but Optimus could tell that there was something on the Insecticon’s mind. He was hesitant to ask, he wasn’t in the mood to play therapist. “Do you want to tell me something?” He asked anyway.

There was a moment of hesitance. “I wanted to. . .” Kickback vented, seeming to stumble over words. “I want you to know that it’s okay if you suspect me.” Optimus stopped, looking at him. “What I mean to say is. . . I know that Megatron is interviewing everyone. He’s made that clear. There has to be a reason for that, you have to have found something. I don't know what it is, and I don’t expect you to tell me.” He vented as he stroked purple onto the wall. “But I do know that I am going to be at the top of the suspect list.” 

“I don’t-”

“I’m not upset about it, and I know that you see me as more than an insect. But the point still stands, I was a Decepticon. I did horrible things. I. . . I wasn’t a good mech.” His voice cracked a bit. “And I showed up at a real convenient time, right before everything went to scrap. All this to say, you should suspect me, you have every reason to think that I’m involved. I don’t want you to hold back because you feel bad, I want you to do what you have to, to bring Ratchet home.” He turned his helm away, and Optimus figured that he was embarrassed. “That sounds stupid, right? Me, giving you permission to suspect me. You don’t need permission. I guess it just makes me feel better.” 

Optimus vented slowly, turning back to painting. “I appreciate the thought, Kickback.” He sighed. “It’s not because you’re an Insecticon.” He wanted to dismiss any belief that this was based off of Kickback’s species. “I don’t think any lower of you.”

“I also wanted to thank you for believing in me.” Kickback’s voice was quavering, and Optimus knew that tears were being hidden from him. He inwardly crumbled. He really didn’t want to play therapist. “I have worked so hard to be more than just a member of a hive, to have my own thoughts and ambitions. When I first came here, I thought you’d dismiss me, because of what I am. But you offered me a chance at redemption, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“Everyone has a role to play in this new era.” Optimus pretended to not notice the fact that Kickback was crying a few feet away from him. 

“When it comes time for me to be interrogated, don’t hold back, please, I want you to find Ratchet, whatever it takes.”

Optimus looked at him. “Do you know something?”

“No, no, of course not, what I mean is, if you look into me and deem me uninvolved, it narrows the list, and gets us closer. I don’t want to jeopardize that, I want you to be sure before you make a call.” He looked at the Prime. Tears were running down from beneath his visor. “I just want to be of use.”

“You have been, and you will be.” Optimus set his paintbrush down and took a long drink of his cube. 

Kickback sighed, long and slow. “You’re a really good mech, Optimus.” He laughed, wiping his face. “I’m sorry for coming in here and doing this to you, you were probably relaxing. Nobody wants a crying mech in their home.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “I’m determined to rewrite my wrongs. Optimus, I’m going to help you find Ratchet. I swear to you, we’ll bring him home, and I will be in the front line of defense when that sparkling is born. I want to protect your family. Nobody is going to get through me.”

“That’s very noble of you, but when this is over, my personal life is off the table. I am done having it torn to pieces for everyone to see.” Optimus watched him. “When this is over, I need you to focus on yourself.”

“Anything, Optimus. I just want to prove myself. I want to make everything right.”

“You will, Kickback.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Megatron had Wheeljack seated across from him, and was watching the wrecker closely. “You’ve told no one of Ratchet’s capture?” He was questioning firmly. “Even under the influence of high grade?”

“You’re fragged in the head if you think I’d ever do anything to hurt Ratchet.” The white mech spat.

“But what about Optimus?”

“I don’t always agree with him, but I would never betray him. He’s a good mech and a good leader. He doesn’t deserve what is happening to him.” Engines rumbling in frustration, Wheeljack crossed his arms. 

“You haven’t confided in anyone about the situation?” 

“I don’t confide in ‘bots easily.” Wheeljack shrugged. “I’ve said nothing.” 

Megatron didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “You’re free to go for now.” He waved a servo dismissively, ignoring the wrecker’s glare as he stood up and left. 

Four interviews had given him nothing to work with. Knock Out had been helpful, providing names of everyone who may know, and was clear and insistent that he had accepted no bribes. He had even offered to let Megatron peer into his mind. Bulkhead and Arcee had been the same, and he had no reason to suspect them. They were Ratchet’s friends, and both despised Decepticons. Kickback had looked a little hurt when Megatron implied that he may be involved, but he had been overwhelmingly compliant. Megatron doubted that he was involved due to his own personal belief that Insecticons were merely members of a hive mind, with no leadership qualities. In addition, Kickback had expressed affection towards Ratchet and the unborn sparkling. Kickback should have been the most suspected mech, but Megatron wasn’t one to pick the lowest hanging fruit. 

He still had many more to interrogate, but the results thus far had put a damper in his hope. Knock Out had been his prime suspect, but Optimus was right about him. He had changed.

None of the seeker bases showed any signs of life. Nothing tied to Skywarp and Thundercracker was useful. Megatron began to search through data tied to Soundwave that could be associated with Rumble. The thought of the silent mech had summoned a wave of nostalgia in him, and he wished Soundwave was there. 

Megatron’s daily patrols had yielded nothing. His frustration was growing, and the Autobots around him were losing their faith in him rapidly. He knew he could find the damn medic, if only he knew who was pulling the strings here. Arcee still seemed to believe that it was him. 

The warlord paced in the interrogation cell, servos clasped behind his back. His patience was dying out, he was done asking questions. He was ready to start using the patch on everyone he interviewed. It wasn’t ethical, and perhaps was cruel, but if it would save both the city, and Ratchet, and get him his reward. . . 

Yes. Everyone on the list would be tested. 

He also had a new demand.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Two weeks before the second deadline, almost every road had been ripped apart, and the smaller buildings destroyed. The temporary home site was ready to support life.

Megatron sat Optimus down, and sternly informed him of his plan to use the patch. As expected, Optimus argued against it.

“I run the investigation now.” The warlord insisted. “I will choose how I do so. Do you want Ratchet back or not?”

“It would be a betrayal of trust.”

“And sabotaging you isn’t?” Megatron growled, deep in his chest. “You don’t have much longer, that apartment building is going to have to come down. This is an opportunity to save Ratchet before then.”

Optimus shook his helm. “Your methods are cruel, Megatron.” He reasoned. “It would be wrong to do this. How many have you threatened with the patch?”

“Every single mech that I have interviewed, and I plan on making good on those threats.” Gesturing angrily, Megatron hissed at him, not unlike a snake. “This isn’t up to you. I will do what I have to.” He turned, barking into his com, “Knock Out, fetch the cortical psychic patch, and summon Wheeljack to the cell.” 

“Megatron-”

“That’s enough out of you.” Megatron flashed him a glare. “I have a new demand.” Optimus stared at him, looking caught. “I want to know what you did to Soundwave. I want access to his body.” 

“Why?” The Prime delicately asked. 

“A loyal, honorable mech like him deserves a proper burial. You will assist me in retrieving his remains, and burying him in Iacon’s Memorial Grounds.” There was a hint of pain behind Megatron’s words, and Optimus didn’t push it. He nodded slowly, softening his voice in sympathy.

“I will make that happen.” He sighed. “If there is no other way to uncover the mole, I will allow you to exercise your. . . Unethical methods. My team will understand.”  _ Anything for Ratchet,  _ he reminded himself. “Anything else?” 

_ “Megatron,”  _ Knock Out’s sudden voice was panicked as it came over the com.  _ “We have a problem. The patch is missing. I haven’t touched it since. . .”  _

“Since you used it on Ratchet.” Optimus finished bitterly.

_ “I have no idea where it could be! We’re ripping the lab apart now to locate it, I was so sure of where it was, positive, even. I think. . . I think someone took it.”  _

__ “I’ll handle this.” Megatron was already on his way to the door. “You’ll just get in the way.” He snapped when Optimus began to protest. “See to the city. It appears we have a setback.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Bulkhead met Optimus in front of the apartment building. “Give me one more week, and I’ll have everyone evacuated.” The wrecker was scrolling through a datapad. “We’re so close. . . And I have the explosives rounded up. We’ll have the place safely torn down just in time for the end of the deadline.” 

“Thank you, Bulkhead. I am sorry that this is what has to happen.” Optimus sighed. “You have worked hard for this.”

“We have the resources to rebuild. I’m not worried about it, I have all the time in the world.” Smiling, Bulkhead shrugged. “Anything for the Doc.” 

“I admire the mech you have become.” 

Exactly a week later, the building came crashing down, and Optimus watched the world he had built crumble to bits.


	10. One Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanna know how Ratchet's doing?

Today marked a month. 

Ratchet squeezed his optics shut at the realization. He had been counting the days that he had been held hostage, tucked away into a dark cell. A month had passed since his capture. 

The second month in his gestation period as well. His middle had grown considerably, and his sparkling had begun kicking. The little one was quite active, keeping him awake by squirming at random. It remained his only comfort. The sparkling made him feel less alone. 

"Quiet down, Little One," he breathed as the sparkling entered a bout of thrashing and kicking. "I'm trying to rest." Of course, there was no change in the sparkling's activity. He sat up against the wall and vented softly, smiling. "I'm too old for this." He chuckled joylessly. He wished his wrists weren't cuffed behind his back. He'd love to stroke his stomach and feel his bitlet. "Save the excitement for when your sire comes for us." 

"You seem so positive." Thundercracker's voice rumbled through the cell, the door sliding open. "So deluded. Why aren't you gagged?" 

"Skywarp allowed it." Ratchet opened his optics, searching for the seeker's shadowy silhouette. "I have faith in Optimus." He said quietly. 

"I'm certain you do, but the question is, is it misplaced?" Thundercracker knelt down beside him. "You belong to us, Medic. Optimus finds you when we say he can." He tightened a servo around Ratchet's neck, squeezing the bruised cables. "If we ever do."

"You can't hold me here forever." Ratchet rasped. 

"Oh, but we can. Rumble isn't even certain if he wants to give you back to Optimus, once the demands are over and done with. You're a prize to be won, you are a beacon of leverage." The seeker basked in the medic's panicked silence for a moment, before drawing an energon cube from his subspace. "Now open, Autobot."

"Get fragged." Ratchet spat, before an edge of the cube was forcefully jammed in between his lips. 

"Do you think that Optimus will give up and find another?" Thundercracker thought aloud as he poured the enriched fuel down Ratchet's throat. "Saving you will be too much hassle. Perhaps he'll move on and knock up some other 'bot." He laughed as Ratchet made an angry choking sound. "Maybe he's even fragging someone else as we speak, now that his berth is empty." 

There wasn't a doubt in Ratchet’s mind that the Prime's spark was his, but the implications infuriated him nonetheless. He twisted away, coughing. "Will you shut the frag up?!" 

Thundercracker roughly backhanded him, snarling. "Do not waste good energon, Whore. Hold still." Ratchet yelped, wincing. His cheek stung. The cube was brought back to his mouth, and was dumped hastily into his intake. He choked, gasping as it was thrown aside. "You're lucky that you have a sparkling to protect you. I would love to have you in my torture chamber, screaming and begging for mercy." Thundercracker rose to his pedes, muttering. "I'll return for you in the morning. Rumble wants to send some pretty pictures to your mate."

The seeker turned on his heel and stalked out, the door snapping shut behind him. 

  
  
  
  



	11. Molehunts and Puppetmasters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're happy with yourselves

Megatron’s optics mimicked his fury, flashing bright and fiery as he stormed into Optimus’ housing unit. The Prime jolted and dropped his paintbrush, whirling around to face him as he came barreling into the room. “Megatron! You’re-”

“About to hang Knock Out from Iacon Tower!” The warlord barked. “The cortical psychic patch was found on the north outskirts of the city, torn to shreds. It is beyond repair. Knock Out must have destroyed it after I threatened to use it on him. It has to be him! Who else would have done it?”

“Slow down.” Optimus closed the paint can he had been using and wiped off his servos. “How can you be certain it was Knock Out?”

“The diva is a coward, he knew I was going to find him out. I told you, he’s easily bribed. They must have-”

“ _ Megatron.  _ Did you not previously deduce that it wasn’t him?” Optimus found it hard to believe. Knock Out had been an overwhelmingly positive presence since the war ended, he and Ratchet had become friends. “Who else knew you were threatening the patch?”

“All of those I interrogated.” Megatron was pacing before him. “It can only be him.”

“Where is he now?”

“In a cell. He’s not talking.” Optimus balked at that.

“You put Knock Out in a cell? Over a suspicion?” He watched the warlord pace like a caged tiger. “Megatron, you’re wrong about this.” He insisted. “What are you planning on doing to him?”

“Getting the information out of him.” Megatron snapped, as if it were obvious. “He’ll crack easily, I know exactly how to get into his circuits.”

Optimus shook his helm, reaching out to halt the gladiator. “Be sensible. It could have been anyone. Perhaps someone was listening in on your interrogations?” He frowned at the furious look he received. “In any case, we need to pull it together. We have three more weeks until I am to deliver Predaking’s head to Rumble, and that is something I absolutely cannot do. I need you to keep all possibilities open, including the one where Knock Out isn’t the mole.” 

_ “Some mechs, family and friends of one of the mechs I helped save after the building collapsed. They are all very sweet, they’ve been volunteering in the medbay ever since. It’s real helpful since Ratchet isn’t around right now.”  _

__ The red medic’s words came to Optimus’ mind at that moment. He recalled the fact that a small group had been helping out in the medbay as of late. Dread gathered in the pit of his stomach as he wondered if someone had won Knock Out’s favor through gifts in order to get in closer. 

“I doubt Knock Out is the culprit, but we need to monitor who is spending time in the medbay. Chances are, it’s someone who has been there often as of late.”

Megatron growled, shaking his helm in frustrated thought. “Fine, Prime.” He took a breath, shoulders slackening. “Whoever the mole is, we frightened them. We are close.”He turned towards the door. “I will update you.”

“Megatron. . . How did you get into my house?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A week of interrogating Knock Out in harsh conditions paid no promising results. Optimus had to beg Megatron to release him. The poor medic had sworn up and down to have nothing to do with the mole, offended that such a betrayal would be thought of him. Optimus purchased limited edition wax from a mech in one of the tents, and gave it to Knock Out as some sort of compensation. The red mech privately asked for his trust, going forward. Optimus told him that he would always have it. 

Bulkhead and Kickback were already preparing for reconstruction. They had been on top of it, gathering resources and hastening the cleanup process. The pair had grown into quite the team. 

Everyone who had returned was rightfully upset with Optimus. He had stripped them of their homes, just like Megatron had, eons before. He didn't tell them what was happening, he didn't tell them that it was his selfishness that destroyed the city. But he did promise that it would get better. 

Optimus had reached out to Rafael, to ask what had been done to handle Soundwave. The small boy informed him of the usage of the Shadowzone. It was decided that once Ratchet had been rescued, they would carefully send someone into the dimension to retrieve Soundwave’s remains from the  _ Nemesis _ . It was painfully clear that the silent mech would have starved in the time he had spent alone in the Shadowzone. Optimus was troubled with relaying this information to Megatron. It was a horrible way to die, to watch one’s energon reserves dwindle, until powering down forever, alone and forgotten. 

But he hadn’t been forgotten. Megatron had made certain of that. 

Now, there were two weeks left. Time was running short. Bumblebee put together a team, to locate the predacons, at the very least. Knowing where they were couldn’t hurt. 

Megatron and Optimus were awaiting their return with intel, seated at a table and sipping warm energon, when the door opened, a tall figure willing the doorway. Both of their helms turned, Megatron setting his datapad down in surprise. The large white mech was above doorway height, bending over to step inside. “Hello,” he greeted politely. “I hope I am not interrupting anything. My name is Jetfire.”

“It has been some time.” Megatron felt small, and squared his shoulders to compensate. 

Optimus scanned the mech over. He was big, but his energy was gentle and calm. His optics were soft and kind. He struck Optimus as an old soul. “I am Optimus Prime.” He greeted, rising from his seat. 

“It is an honor.” Jetfire bowed. The Decepticon insignia glinted on his chest. He seemed to notice how it caught Optimus’ eye. “Worry not, I disown this badge.” He touched it softly. “I come here, not as a Decepticon, but as a friend. I wish to take part in rebuilding our world, restoring it to a glory greater than before.” 

“That is good to hear. You may join us for energon, if you’d like.” Megatron sent Optimus a frustrated look; they couldn’t discuss the dire situation at hand in front of the newcomer. Optimus and his manners. 

Jetfire took a seat. “I am so proud to see what you’ve been putting together.” He didn’t pay Megatron much mind, sat facing Optimus with a kind smile. “To see both factions, putting aside their differences. . . This is the end to the war I dreamt of for eons.” He swirled his energon thoughtfully. “I even saw an Insecticon. All species, living in harmony. . .” He sighed happily. 

“You met Kickback.” Optimus nodded, smiling. He hadn’t heard this kind of positivity in weeks. “I was pleasantly surprised by his presence. He has taught me that redemption reaches farther than Autobot and Decepticon.”

“Admittedly, I was frightened when I ran into him in the outskirts. Back in the day, Insecticons were nasty little fighters, but he shook my hand and welcomed me to the city. I dare say he’s changed my mind about his kind.” Jetfire took a sip of his energon, humming pleasantly. Out of the corner of his eye, Optimus noticed Megatron had gone rigid. “Optimus, you seem to attract the most wonderful individuals. I hope to befriend you.”

“Where did you say you met Kickback?” Megatron asked tensely. He was gripping his energon cube so hard it cracked.

Jetfire spared him a glance. “The outskirts, north of here.”

“When?” The warlord demanded.

“I had just arrived. . . I would say a week ago. I myself circled the city for some time before entering. At the time, I was uncertain if I would be welcome.” The white seeker shrugged, chuckling softly. “But when I met him, and learned that even he was welcome into the city, I knew I wouldn’t be turned away.”

Optimus’ mouth went dry, and for a moment, he only heard static. Megatron was gripping his shoulder, pulling him towards the door. “Excuse us, for just a moment.” The warlord murmured to Jetfire, shoving Optimus into the hallway rather roughly. The seeker stared after them, puzzled.

Outside the conference room, Optimus’ thoughts were racing. 

“It’s him.” Megatron hissed. “That  _ bug. _ . . He destroyed the patch, and dumped it in the outskirts.” 

“You threatened him with it when you interrogated him. He covered his tracks.” Optimus was clenching and unclenching his servos, a whirlwind of emotions building up inside him. “Why else would he be in the north outskirts, where the patch was found?” 

“Optimus. . . He’s the mech on the inside.” Megatron was saying this to himself, more than anyone, shaking his helm in disbelief. “He’s the one pulling the strings.” 

Everything was coming to Optimus all at once. 

The mole had memorized Optimus and Ratchet’s schedules. 

_ “Optimus! You forgot your schedule.” The Insecticon slowed to a stop and offered him his datapad. _

__ The mole had access to the work site, to sabotage the building, creating a distraction. 

_ “Kickback and I built the foundation ourselves, and I’ve been reviewing all the plans and how they were executed. . . It couldn’t have collapsed like it did on it’s own. I think it was sabotaged.” _

The mole had warned Rumble of the rescue mission.

_ Kickback stood up and moved towards the door. “I’m going to call my buddies. They might have some additional firepower for us to borrow.” He announced as he stepped into the hallway. _

It was Kickback. 

Kickback was the puppet master behind all of this. 

“Where is he now?” Megatron demanded.

“With Bulkhead, beginning reconstruction. Do you have cuffs on you?” Optimus was already taking long strides down the hall. 

“Yes. Wheeljack, prepare a cell, a real one this time.” Megatron murmured into his com link, optics flashing excitedly. “Optimus, we’ve done it.” 

“If we still had the patch, we could find the location of their hideaway.” Optimus cursed the Insecticon, growling.

“I’ll get it out of him, one way or another.” Megatron snarled aggressively. “I’ll tear that bug open.” 

“Wait. . . It can’t be obvious. If he knows that we’ve discovered him, he could contact Rumble, and. . .” Optimus stopped dead in his tracks. “We have to be strategic.” 

“Call a meeting with Bulkhead and him, consult them about building plans. We’ll have to kick Jetfire out.” Megatron was dragging him back towards the conference room. “Primus, Optimus, we found him.” 

They burst back into the room, and Jetfire startled. “Jetfire, I must put a halt on our discussion.” Optimus tried to be polite, but his spark was racing. “I would like to personally take you on a tour, if you’re interested, but for now, I must ask that you leave.” The seeker nodded kindly and left without question. Megatron was pacing behind Optimus as he spoke over his com, “Bulkhead, an idea was just pitched to me, regarding reconstruction. I would like to see you and Kickback for consultation.” 

_ “We’ll be right over, Boss.”  _

Wheeljack entered the room just then, looking between them with wide optics. “What’s going on? Who’s the cell for?” 

“The mole.” Megatron beamed triumphantly. “Have a seat.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kickback followed Bulkhead through the halls, flicking through a datapad absent mindedly. “Someone pitched an idea?” 

“Perhaps a better design, but I think our first one was pretty flawless.” The wrecker replied, chuckling. “Ratchet helped with the architecture. That’s probably why it turned out so great.” 

“It’s such a shame, that it had to come crashing down.” The Insecticon mumbled bitterly. There was nothing genuine to it. 

They entered the conference room and sat down at the table. Energon wasn't offered like normal.

There was something different about the atmosphere. Optimus was rigid, optics stony and unreadable. Megatron was restless. Wheeljack was eerily silent. Even with the intensity of their situation, the room was never this tense. Everyone was always working or discussing. The silence that hung in the air was stifling. Bulkhead cleared his throat, looking around at everyone. “Uh. . . Is everything alright? What did you want to talk about?”

As if on cue, Optimus rose to his pedes in one fluid movement, servo transforming into a blaster. The barrel was pressed to Kickback’s forehelm, whirling to life with a hum. The Insecticon jolted in surprise, gasping. Megatron slipped behind him, his fusion activating loudly. “Wh-What?!” Kickback sputtered.

“Woah!” Bulkhead looked between them, servos up. “What is happening?”

“We’ve discovered the mole.” Megatron answered with a satisfied grin. “Much to Kickback’s dismay.”

Bulkhead gaped. “What? Really?”

“This insect has been playing us this whole time.” Wheeljack crossed his arms over his chest. “But his web of lies fell apart, didn’t it, Kickback?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Kickback stared into Optimus’ optics, looking stricken. “Optimus, you don’t believe that, do you? Frag, I adore Ratchet! Why would I hurt him?” He searched Optimus’ face for help. He found none.

“Servos out in front of you,  _ now _ .” The Prime ordered. His voice made the Insecticon jump. 

Megatron slipped cuffs on him, and he was dragged to the brig. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The change in Kickback’s demeanor was chilling. 

Like a switch, the charming, kindhearted mech they had met was gone, a cruel monster in his place. The moment Kickback realized the gig was up, he made the swift change, startling the Autobots in front of him. He had been cuffed to a chair in an interrogation cell, his com links severed, his signal scrambled. He had no way of reaching Rumble, and had no way of escaping. It didn’t seem to phase him.

“You know, Prime, burning Ratchet was my idea.” He was purring, a sickening sound from deep in his throat. “It was horrible, wasn’t it? I am so sad that I didn’t get to see it. I’ll bet his screams were glorious.” 

Optimus stood a small distance away from him, mask covering his face to hide his look of fury. “Tell us where Ratchet is being hidden.” He ordered, his voice tense and low. The change in the Insecticon was frightening. He had considered this mech a friend, and to see him transform into this villain. . . 

“I don’t think I will.” Kickback shrugged, smirking. “I think I’ll watch you struggle to give in, only to fail and watch your mate be slaughtered.” He sighed in mock sadness. “It’s unfortunate, honestly. I really did like Ratchet. And he liked me, didn’t he? Such a shame that I had to be here, when I could’ve been there, talking him into my berth.” His visor flashed in a predatory way. "I bet I could."

“He’d slice your throat open if he heard you say that.” Knock Out muttered. He was standing by a table of various interrogation instruments that Megatron asked him to collect. Optimus hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

“Ratchet won’t have to worry. I’ll do it for him.” The warlord snarled. “You’d best get talking.”

“And not about how you’d frag Ratchet, because ew.” Knockout mumbled. Optimus flashed him an offended look. 

Kickback chuckled, low and throaty. “I invite you to do your worst, Megatron.” He leaned forward, bracing against his restraints. “But let me ask you something, first.” Optimus turned his helm to glimpse Megatron’s reaction as the Insecticon spoke, “Tell me, how does it feel to be an utter failure? Look at what you’ve become, my dear  _ Lord Megatron _ . A puppet. You were Unicron’s puppet, and now you’re Optimus’. You lost to a pitiful army of misfits, only to become a slave, losing your free will to your masters. Unicron threw you around like a toy, didn’t he? And now, here you are, serving Optimus.” Kickback shook his helm, laughing. “So ironic, that me, an Insecticon, has wound up  _ above  _ you. You are nothing more than a puppet, bound by strings. And  _ I  _ am a puppet master, controlling the wire with a flick of my wrist. How is it to have plummeted to these depths, my dear?” 

The snarl that left Megatron made Optimus jump, and the Prime clasped his forearm to keep him from attacking. “Don’t.” He warned. The warlord stilled, plating rattling with rage.

“Look at you, obeying your master.” Kickback crooned. “Like a good little miner.”

Optimus released Megatron, venting as the warlord’s field ripped around him like a storm. “Kickback, tell us where Ratchet is.” He repeated. “This will be easier on you if you help us save him.” 

“I have no intentions of helping the selfish mech who ripped homes away from innocent mechs and femmes so he wouldn’t have to sleep alone at night.” The Insecticon barked. 

_ “Wow, he really is a glitch.”  _ Bulkhead said unhelpfully over the com. The others were outside, listening.

“Let me interrogate him my way.” Megatron looked at Optimus, optics flashing with excitement. “He deserves it.” He added when the Prime sent him a doubtful look.

There was a moral debate going on in Optimus’ helm. He never believed in torture, and had always relied on intimidation or negotiation to get what he wanted. But Kickback was a special case. This was a cruel, dangerous mech that had threatened his family. He told himself that he wasn’t doing this out of spite, but for Ratchet. “Update me when you can.” He said softly to Megatron. He wouldn’t watch. 

He left the room, stalking past his Autobots and down the corridor.

“Where are you going?” Arcee demanded.

“Bulkhead, will you show me where Kickback has been staying? I want to search his quarters.” His helm was aching. Inside the cell, the Insecticon was screaming. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” 

  
  



	12. A Gladiator Never Forgets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like jerking y'all around

So close, and yet so far. 

Optimus had found nothing in Kickback’s quarters, no records, no evidence of communication, nothing. He had torn the room apart looking for something, _anything_. It seemed that the only hope was Megatron, and his cruel interrogation techniques. Thus far, they had yielded nothing. 

Four days had passed, and Kickback had nothing but damaging insults to offer. Megatron had worked him for hours upon hours, with no success. Now, they were ten days away from the final deadline. Bumblebee hadn’t returned from his mission to locate the Predacons, and even if he had, Optimus didn’t think he could go through with the extermination. He was above starting this era with a genocide, however small it may be. 

However, the urge to just go through with it was there. All he wanted was his mate, home safe, in his arms. Perhaps Kickback was right. Perhaps he was selfish and foolish. 

How much was too far, where was the line? Had he already crossed it? 

There wasn’t much time to ponder. Right now, he had to juggle locating the Predacons, interrogating Kickback, and rebuilding the city. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Do you think we’re close?”

Bumblebee was panting, his leg muscles cramping in pulsing aches. “I don’t know.” He admitted, glancing over his shoulder. Those following him paused, groaning. “We’re on their trail, but I don’t know how long it’s been.” He vented. “If we just go a little further-”

“Bumblebee, the lot of us are exhausted. We won’t be much good for hunting Predacons if we can’t walk.” A red mech just behind him cut in, offering kindly but matter-of-factly. 

“Perceptor is right. If we don’t rest, who knows what can happen.” Another mech looked around worriedly. “Filthy scavengers, rogues, Insecticons. . . Something bad will find us, and we’ll be helpless to defend ourselves.” He chewed on the tips of his digits nervously.

“It may have been a mistake to bring him along.” Ultra Magnus murmured to Bumblebee.

“I chose everyone here for a reason.” The scout replied confidently. The tall blue mech hummed thoughtfully. Magnus had been reluctant to enter a mission where he’d answer to Bumblebee, but Optimus had personally encouraged it. “Red Alert, nobody is going to attack us. Especially in Predacon turf. Everyone dangerous has already been chased out.”

“Personally, I’d take an Insecticon over a Predacon.” Perceptor said unhelpfully. 

“I don’t want either!” Red Alert whined. 

“We’ll get to the top of this ravine, and then we’ll rest for a bit.” Bumblebee turned to face forward again, carrying on the steep trek upward. The others followed, grumbling. 

Aching, exhausted, grasping consciousness, Bee made it to the top, and helped pull his comrades onto level ground. They all crumbled, groaning, passing compact energon cubes to one another. Bumblebee walked a large circle around the area, looking for signs of passing. Excitement flashed in his optics as he came across a monstrous clawed footprint. “Perceptor! Come look!” He called. The red mech approached him tiredly. “I want you to examine this, and tell me if it’s new.” 

Perceptor transformed, rotating his scope to hover above the footprint. “I’d say within the past few hours.” He concluded after a moment.

“That’s good news, we’re close.” Bumblebee smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Perceptor.” 

“Is it good news?” Red Alert shuddered, subconsciously shifting closer to Ultra Magnus. “I don’t want to be any closer to those _beasts_. Why I was chosen for such a mission is beyond me.” 

“Agreed.” Magnus muttered. Red Alert sent him an offended look.

“All we have to do is locate them, we don’t have to fight.” Bumblebee reassured as he walked back over. “And then, all we have to do is call Optimus.” 

“And trek back, since Ultra Magnus doesn’t have his ship.” Perceptor sighed.

“And why doesn’t he?” Red Alert gestured in frustration. “It’d be a lot more helpful!”

“Optimus needs both the _Jackhammer_ and Magnus’ ship for searching for Rumble, and once we find him, they’ll need both to get a sizable team there, transport Ratchet safely, and bring back the ‘cons as prisoners.” Sitting down with a heavy sigh, Bee replied. “But don’t worry, once we know where Predaking is, we’ll be bridging home.” 

They spent some time in silence, resting their optics and taking a moment to just relax. Their surroundings were beautiful. It was a rural section of Cybertron, a thick forest with hedges of crystals and deep ravines leading to rivers. For days, they had been following a path of destroyed trees and clawed footprints, evidence of Predacons coming crashing through. The journey was exhausting. 

“Did you hear that?” Red Alert startled suddenly.

“What, you interrupting my power down?” Perceptor mumbled tiredly. 

Red Alert had leapt to his pedes, facing the woods, armor rattling fearfully. “Perhaps you were dreaming?” Bumblebee offered. 

“War is known to damage one’s mental state.” Ultra Magnus said quietly.

“I’m not crazy!” Red Alert complained. “Listen, I swear I heard-”

There was the _crack_ of a tree splitting, and the thundering of heavy pedes. The Autobots leapt to their pedes, jumping back just in time to dodge the upper half of a tree flying in their direction. “It would seem that we found them.” Perceptor announced.

“Or that they found us.” Bumblebee fought the urge to arm himself. 

“I told you I wasn’t crazy!” Red Alert gasped as a scaly beast pushed through the tree trunks, baring shining teeth. The creature tucked his wings close to his body and pulled his horned helm up high, roaring. 

“Is that Predaking?” Preceptor's back hit a tree as he jumped at the startling sound.

Bumblebee’s optics cycled wide. “No!” He realized aloud. This Predacon was clad with lighter colors, bearing some of the same features as the King of Beasts, but still noticeably different. He was smaller, sleeker. “Is it Darksteel or Skylynx?” The scout sputtered to Magnus.

“I don’t believe so.” The large mech shook his helm.

“I thought there were only three!” Red Alert looked ready to blow a fuse. “Who is this?!”

The Predacon shrieked a mighty cry, before lunging forward. Bee regretted not arming himself as powerful jaws locked around Preceptor's shoulder, ripping his pauldrons as he was violently shaken and tossed aside. He transformed a servo, firing, shouting at Red Alert to help Perceptor as he and Ultra Magnus drew the beast’s attention. 

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kickback’s screams echoed through the holding cell. Megatron held the prod’s tip tight against his delicate neck cables, counting the seconds, turning his helm away so as to not be blinded by the flashing light. He let his servo fall away, leaving the Insecticon gasping. “Did your superiors in the mines use prods on you when you misbehaved?” He spat.

“It doesn’t have to be this difficult.” Megatron gritted his denta. “You could put a stop to this.”

“Who says I want to?” Purring, Kickback smiled up at him. “I think I’m getting to you more than you’re getting to me. That’s not right, is it?”

“I have been generous. I haven’t caused permanent damage.” The warlord ignored him, engines rumbling deeply as he growled. “Do you know why?”

“Because Daddy said not to?”

“Because I am willing to let you walk away from this.” Megatron said firmly. “This is your last chance to leave here freely, with no lasting damages. This is your last chance at mercy. Tell me where Rumble has the medic.” 

“I noticed you stopped calling him all those fun slurs. Is it because it upset your Master? Did Master want you to treat Ratchet with respect?” The Insecticon seemed to ignore his offer, happily questioning him right back.

“I’m going to rip you open, Bug.” Megatron hissed, stabbing the prod into the back of Kickback’s servo, making it all the way through to the arm of the chair. A screech of pain followed. “Knock Out, any luck with the patch?” He called over the pained wails. 

In the corner of the room Knock Out was fussing over the broken patch. “The fragger really tore it apart, I can’t fix it. If Ratchet was here. . .” He huffed. “I say, start cutting off his damn limbs.”

“Are you going to take orders from that diva now too?” 

Megatron buried his frustration deep in his chest. Never before had he met someone so. . . Bulletproof. This mech seemed to be happy to take the torture, so long as he got to verbally abuse them. He pondered what horrible thing he’d do next.

Knock Out suddenly stood up, his chair shrieking against the metal floor. “I’m coming.” He hissed into his com, sprinting for the door.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“The Predacons are repopulating.” 

A chill went down Optimus’ backstrut. He watched Magnus and Bulkhead carry Preceptor’s battered frame into the medbay, leaving a trail of energon. “Did you find Predaking?” He asked.

Bumblebee shook his helm. “Only his offspring.” 

“Is anyone else injured?”

“Not as badly as Preceptor, but we’ll need attention.” The scout was beaten and bloody. He clutched his arm. “I’m so sorry, Optimus.”

“You don’t need to be.” Optimus patted his shoulder gently. “I am sorry to have put you all in such a position.” He watched the team he had sent shuffle into the medbay, tired, battered and drained. 

This was hopeless. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Optimus buried his face into his pillow that night, sobbing. His entire world had been ripped apart and tossed before him. There was no way he could hunt the Predacons, especially now that they had a growing population. The only hope was Kickback breaking, and he had shown no signs. The cruel Insecticon seemed to take joy in his sessions with Megatron. 

He knew what this meant, and it broke him.

They wouldn’t be able to save Ratchet. He and the unborn sparkling would be killed, punishment for Optimus’ failure to follow through. 

Everything Optimus had built was crashing down, and he was suffocating in the rubble. His spark ached for his mate. His spark ached for the family he had hoped to raise. 

This was really it. 

He cried so hard his frame trembled, armor rattling loudly. He just wanted his mate. Seeing him in the pictures and videos Rumble sent to him only made him feel worse. 

What was Optimus going to do? How was he supposed to move on? He was certain that it was impossible. Would he hurt this way forever? 

His weeping pushed him to an exhaustion, and he fell into a troubled recharge. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The sound of cabinets opening woke Optimus, and he jolted. Quickly, he leapt from the berth, transforming a servo into a blaster and blinking himself awake. Who was in his home? 

Carefully, he softly trod down the hall towards the living area and kitchen. He groaned when he glimpsed his worst enemy, opening his cabinets and sipping high grade energon. “Megatron, why?” He stepped into the kitchen, crossing his arms. “And how do you keep getting in here?”

“Was hoping that they may have left something behind when they took him.” The warlord mumbled.

“In the cabinets?”

“I didn’t come here for your snark, Prime.” Megatron shot him a look, taking a long swig from the pink cube. 

“Drinking in the morning?”

“Kickback kept me up all night. I don’t think I can do it.” Red optics stared intensely into the contents of the magenta cube; Megatron glared into it bitterly. “He won’t tell me.”

Optimus felt tears well up, but they didn’t leave his optics. “Keep trying.” He quietly pleaded.

“Optimus, we _failed_ .” The warlord whirled around to hiss at him. “Kickback was our last hope! That pathetic _insect_ beat us.”

The Prime opened his mouth to argue, but a muffled beeping in his subspace cut him off. He pulled out the datapad Rumble had left for him. An incoming transmission. He sighed. “Rumble is calling, or he wants to send me something.” He glanced at Megatron. “Stay out of the frame.” Setting the datapad on the counter, he answered the call, and was answered with a two way feed.

“ _Hey there, Lover-bot_ .” Rumble crooned. “ _Thought you’d want an update_.” 

Ratchet was in a chair this time, tied down. Skywarp’s clawed servo was resting on his large stomach. Optimus vented. “What do you want to tell me, Rumble?”

_“Your sparkling is kicking! A lot, too. It’s a feisty little one.”_ Ratchet squirmed as his middle was pet, whining in complaint.

“Rumble, about your final demand,” Optimus began, ignoring the bittersweet news.

Across from the table, Megatron had dropped his cube. It clattered to the floor, spilling the rich fluid everywhere. His optics were wide. Optimus stared at him.

_“Yes?”_

“. . . I am nearly done.” The Prime lied, drawing his attention back. Megatron’s energy had doubled, and he was gesturing wildly. “If you’ll excuse me, I will be tending to that shortly.” Optimus’ spark was pounding. 

_“Don’t care for the news, then? Oh, well, don’t let us keep you.”_ Rumble quirked an optic ridge. _“Are you already fragging someone else? Is that what you’re ‘tending to’?”_

Optimus balked. “Ratchet, I have not given up. I _will_ get you back. Please, hold on just a little bit longer.” He said firmly. “I have to go.” 

_“We’ll try again tomorrow. Perhaps then you’ll be more motivated to speak with us.”_ Rumble glanced over his shoulder, snapping. On que, Thundercracker pressed a sharp talon to Ratchet’s cheek, just below his optic, digging it inward and dragging it downwards roughly. Ratchet yelped as fresh energon ran down his face, turning his helm away from the seeker and wincing. 

The feed ended. 

“It had better be good news.” Sighing, Optimus set the datapad aside, turning his attention to the excited warlord.

Megatron leant against the counter, uttering in a confident, strong tone, “They are in the Pits of Kaon.” 


	13. Kaon's Dungeon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too exhausted to proofread this so I hope it isn't garbage, goodnight I sleep now

Megatron smacked a blueprint of The Pits of Kaon down onto the table; the sound made those sitting there flinch. “I have a plan.” He announced excitedly. Optimus noticed that there was a certain enthusiasm to him. Since it wasn’t his mate’s life on the line, this was little more than a game to him. 

“Does it involve leading us into a trap?” Arcee questioned skeptically. “Maybe they wanted us to attempt another rescue. And how can you be so sure that they are in Kaon?”

“I would never forget that dungeon. They were in the main chamber, underground, beneath the ring, where the masters would schedule matches every night. The Pits offer good cover and cell space, I can understand why they chose to flee there.” Megatron was too worked up to even sit down, pacing. “Kickback and Rumble have no reason to believe that any of you would recognize a private room in Kaon. They shouldn’t know we’re coming. Now, this rescue is going to be carefully planned. If we fail to catch them off guard, Ratchet’s finished.” 

“Oh, do tell.” Wheeljack muttered.

Optimus was impatient to hear what the warlord had to say. After his own failed attempt, he felt relieved to have such a brilliant strategist planning his mate’s rescue. Megatron optics flashed as he paused and thought. “There are three entrances into the Pits. We ought to utilize that.” He turned to face them. “Rumble is planning on contacting Optimus again tomorrow. In that time period, all three mechs involved are in one space, with Ratchet. That may be the best window for action.” 

“But if they are just standing there with Ratchet, won’t they just hold him hostage when we move in, defeating the entire purpose?” Arcee pointed out.

“They would, if it was an Autobot approaching them.” Megatron flashed a toothy smirk. “As far as we know, they are unaware of my involvement.”

“Kickback had limited contact with them, only for emergencies, in the event that we intercepted the transmission.” Optimus added with a nod.

“We’ll provide them with two distractions. On one hand, they will be speaking to Optimus, their attention on him just long enough for me to enter the chamber, alone. They have no reason to believe that I am working alongside you. I will distract them until all of you are in a position to strike. By then, I will be close to Ratchet, and will intercept any attempts to utilize him while the attack commences.” Megatron explained impatiently. “I will use the main entrance, while you all split yourselves between the other two.” He pointed to the three ways into the dungeon. “Am I understood?”

“Won’t they get defensive when you get all up in their business?” Wheeljack pulled out one of his katanas and a small block sharpener, working the blade quietly as he thought. “Rumble hasn’t exactly spoken highly of you. Neither has Kickback. Do you think they’ll welcome you in, all buddy buddy?” 

The warlord’s engines rumbled pleasantly. “I pray that you haven’t forgotten my mastery of deception.” He touched the purple insignia on his chest, smirking in a way he hadn’t since the war. Optimus didn’t miss it. “Have faith in my ability to stroke Rumble’s ego until you all are ready.”

The plan seemed well enough, but Optimus had one problem. “If I am interacting with Rumble via the feed, I cannot be present in the mission.” He said slowly. 

Megatron’s optics locked on him. “If you are at home, behaving like normal, they won’t have reason to suspect you.” He spoke with little sympathy. “This is how it has to be. We want the best chance at surprising them.”

Optimus didn’t like that. He couldn’t imagine handing Ratchet’s safety over to Megatron. All this time, he had pictured himself saving his mate. “Megatron, I can’t stand by while Ratchet is being saved.” He argued. 

“Do you want him back or not?” The warlord was impatient and snappy, hissing unpleasantly. “Optimus, I am running this operation. You handed the responsibility over to me when you asked me to find the mole. I will carry it until it has been resolved. Step aside and allow me to do so.” 

“I think you being on the feed with Rumble will be helpful. We’ll know exactly where they are, and their attention will be on you.” Wheeljack put in, not looking at Optimus as he sharpened his blade. 

Bulkhead and Arcee hesitantly nodded. 

Sighing, Optimus leaned back in his chair. “Very well.” He uttered quietly. 

“We leave in the early hours of the morning. We are two mechs short, I need you all to make up for that.” Megatron addressed the others. “If possible, I want Bumblebee.” He said to Knock Out.

“I’ll do a wellness check right now.” The medic replied, rising from his seat.

“Megatron,” Optimus tried not to react as Bulkhead addressed Megatron instead of him. “Will we be taking prisoners?” 

The warlord thought for a moment. Optimus bit his glossa, holding his own values in. “A new era of peace is beginning, and these mechs have done their best to tear it down. I believe that they do not fit into Cybertron’s next stage.” He answered, not bothering to look at Optimus. “We will take no prisoners.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


At three in the morning sharp, Wheeljack drove Ultra Magnus’ ship off towards the horizon, in the direction of Kaon. Inside were Megatron, Bulkhead, Knock Out, Arcee, Smokescreen. 

Optimus waited at home, pacing, crying, painting, desperately trying to fill his free time until Rumble called. After two hours of being on his pedes stressing, he forced himself to take a seat in the nursery. He clutched a soft yellow blanket to his chest, running his digits through the fabric. It had a beautiful design of the Matrix of Leadership, with an  electrocardiogram line running in the background, symbolism for both he and Ratchet. A kind mech had made it for their sparkling. 

He traced the line thoughtfully. He wondered what his sparkling would be like. Would they follow in his mate’s footsteps, and become a doctor, or branch off in a different direction? Would they receive special treatment from others because of their bloodline? Would they end up more like Orion Pax?

There were so many possibilities, and he felt excited. The future held so much promise. As long as Megatron succeeded in saving Ratchet. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ratchet’s pedes were still horribly burnt and incapable of supporting his weight; Thundercracker and Skywarp had to carry him. For this call, he had been tied down to a berth, servos above his helm. As usual, he tested the cuffs and braced against them for a few moments, while Thundercracker warned him to be still. Skywarp made certain he couldn’t spit the rag out of his mouth in any way before Rumble called Optimus. Most of this was routine. Rumble always paced excitedly, and Thundercracker often sipped a hot cube of energon while they waited. 

The datapad was propped up, ready for the call. 

Most of this was like clockwork.

“Ready, Mama-bot?” Rumble stood on the tips of his pedes to glimpse Ratchet on the table. The medic ignored him, promptly sighing. 

The feed began, and Optimus answered instantly. It seemed he had been waiting. He was sitting in the empty conference room on the  _ Nemesis,  _ anxiously fiddling with his servos. Ratchet had always found it cute when he was nervous. His spark ached for the mech’s smile, he hadn’t seen it in so long. 

“Good morning, Lover-bot.” Rumble greeted happily.

_ “Rumble.”  _ Optimus clasped his servos to still them.  _ “In regards to your final demand, we have located the Predacons, and successfully hunted the majority. The only one remaining is Predaking.”  _

__ “Well!” The small mech beamed, clapping. “Bravo, Prime. I’ve got to say, I didn’t think you’d come this far. You must love your mate.” 

_ “Have you treated him well?”  _ Optimus’ optics met Ratchet’s, and they softened. 

“Oh, we bind him with the  _ finest  _ chains credits can buy, we  _ gently  _ drag him from his cell each morning. . .” Skywarp joked, pinching Ratchet’s cheek rather roughly. He jerked his helm away with a quiet whine. “You’re enjoying your stay, aren’t you, Little Autobot?”

_ “I want to arrange our rendezvous.”  _ Optimus said evenly.  _ “The final deadline is approaching. I will hand over the dark energon, and Predaking, and you’ll return Ratchet to me.”  _

__ “Oh, be patient, Lover-bot. We’ve got other stuff to talk about.” Rumble waved dismissively. “Like how you blew us off yesterday.” 

_ “I was seeing to-” _

__ “Quiet, quiet. All you must do now is watch. Forgive me, but I have to make certain that you’ll understand the consequences of doing it again.” Whenever Rumble had a malicious thought, his visor flashed. Ratchet shivered as it glinted, Rumble’s helm turning to face him. 

He jolted as Skywarp’s claws rested on his sparkchamber, ghosting over the plating. Slowly, Skywarp walked along the side of the berth, dragging his talons down Ratchet’s chest, his stomach, his leg, all the way down to his pedes. His ventilations hitched as the seeker gripped his ankle with one servo, the other penetrating the gnarly burn wounds on his pede with his sharp digits, slowly dragging downward, slicing through the wounded metal. Ratchet shouted into the gag, throwing his helm back and snapping his knee upward to free his ankle. Skywarp’s grip remained steadfast, and Thundercracker moved forward to hold his knees down. His muffled screams echoed through the empty dungeon as Skywarp started a new gash. 

_ “Stop, you don’t have to hurt him.”  _ Optimus was gripping the table now.  _ “Please.”  _

__ Ratchet was whimpering and shaking his helm as Skywarp flicked fresh energon off of his digits. “Another, Rumble?”

“Yes, one more.” The small mech nodded approvingly. “Three is a good number.” 

Just as Skywarp’s talons dug in to make the final gash, there was the steady sound of approaching pedesteps. The trio froze, optics wide as they looked at one another. “Who. . .” Thundercracker released Ratchet’s legs to activate his cannon, whirling around to face the doorway. 

A tall figure stood there, servos clasped behind his back. Ratchet nearly short circuited as Megatron strode into the room. “Well, how interesting.” He rumbled inquisitively. 

_ “Megatron,”  _ Optimus exclaimed.

“Megatron!” Rumble sputtered.

Skywarp and Thundercracker were silent. 

“My, Doctor. What a compromising state you are in.” The warlord’s lips pulled into a smirk as he approached slowly. “What have these Decepticons done to you?” 

“What are you doing here?” Rumble crossed his arms. “You abandoned the Decepticon cause.”

“I was simply scavenging nearby, when I heard the most  _ agonizing  _ screams.” Megatron replied in a way that made Ratchet shiver. “I am glad that I came to investigate. How else would I discover that Optimus Prime’s lapdog is sparked?”

_ “Stay away from him!”  _ Optimus barked helplessly. 

“It’s yours, isn’t it, Prime? I’ve always had suspicions that the pair of you were mates.” Megatron chuckled. “And look at you, Rumble. Leading a hostage operation, all on your own. You certainly have changed, haven’t you?” 

“Yes, well. . .” Rumble laughed nervously. “You have too.” 

“Though, my thirst for vengeance remains unchanging.” Megatron’s crimson optics darkened. He came to a halt at the berthside, smirking down at Ratchet. “What an opportunity.” Ratchet cowered, protesting into the gag as his claws slipped around his throat.

_ “Megatron, do not touch him! Your quarrel is with me!”  _ Voice raising, Optimus shouted in panic. 

“Precisely, Prime. And he is a part of you, isn’t he?” Megatron spared a malicious look to the camera.

“Now hold on a moment, Megatron.” Rumble tapped his pede anxiously. “The medic is our bounty, and we are holding him for a ransom. We can’t let you jeopardize that.”

“I understand, Rumble. I will not terminate him.” The warlord gave a threatening squeeze, and Ratchet whimpered. “I am impressed with what you’ve done, I will not put your operation at risk. However, I expect you to understand that this is an opportunity I cannot let slip away.” He regarded Rumble respectfully.

The small mech thought for a moment. “I wasn’t really planning on-” He jolted as Megatron’s blade slid out from it’s sheath. 

Ratchet flinched, inching away from the warlord. Megatron pressed the tip of the blade to his cheek, grinning. 

_ “Megatron, no!” _ __

__ “Well, it’s fine, I guess,” Rumble squeaked. 

__ And then, with unparalleled speed, Megatron whirled around, slashing his blade downwards, through Thundercracker’s chest plating. Energon splattered as the seeker shrieked, gasping and stumbling backwards. “Thundercracker!” Skywarp exclaimed, lunging forward, only to be sent back by blaster fire. 

Ratchet yelped as Megatron’s frame shielded him from the incoming attack as the Autobots poured in, rapidly firing at the trio of Decepticons. Thundercracker was on the ground, gagging on his own energon, bleeding profusely, already well on his way to offlining. Rumble ducked behind a pillar, screeching shrilly, and Skywarp stood his ground, firing at the invaders. 

_ “It’s alright, Old Friend!”  _ He heard Optimus call. 

Megatron turned to him, and he tensed. “Stay calm.” The warlord hissed, slashing at his restraints. Ratchet pulled free and sat up, ripping the gag from his mouth. “Stay down!” Megatron barked, pushing him back and firing at Skywarp as the seeker attempted a sneaky shot, before being struck down by Smokescreen. 

Bulkhead had ended Thundercracker’s slow demise, and Arcee and Smokescreen had managed to shoot enough holes in Skywarp that he wasn’t much of a threat anymore, crumbling and gasping. Megatron delivered a swift swipe of his blade, ending that there. “Come out, Rumble.” He snarled. “It’s your turn.”

“I don’t understand!” The small mech cried from behind the pillar. “Why are you working for Optimus, how did you find us!”

Ratchet had sat up again, and was clutching his own chest in shock. Everything had happened so fast. “Ratchet!” Smokescreen exclaimed happily.

“Don’t worry Doc, we’ll have you home in no time.” Wheeljack smiled at him warmly.

“What the frag just happened,” Ratchet sputtered.

Arcee stepped forward. “We’ll handle Rumble, get Ratchet to Knock Out.” She said to Megatron. When the warlord flashed her a disapproving look, she reasoned, “He can’t walk, and you’re the only one big enough to carry him.” 

Megatron sighed, his blade sliding under his cannon. As the Autobots moved in to corner Rumble, Megatron approached Ratchet. The medic scooted away from him, distrust flashing in his optics. “I’m going to take you to Optimus.” He said sternly. “I’m not here to harm you.” Without letting Ratchet answer, he easily scooped him up, ignoring the yelp of surprise. “Knock Out,” he said over the com. “I have Ratchet, I’m bringing him to the ship now. Be ready.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Optimus was pacing on the landing deck of the  _ Nemesis,  _ chewing on his lip and crossing his arms so tight it hurt. Bumblebee was standing quietly, leaning on a cane for support. The fight with the Predacon had damaged his knee joints rather badly, and he needed the support for the healing process. “They’ll be back soon.” He reassured.

Optimus nodded, not halting his pacing. He had watched Megatron carry Ratchet out of the dungeon. He knew that the trio had been killed. Even still, he was anxious. 

There was the hum of a ship, and through the thick clouds, Ultra Magnus’ ship dipped down and lowered onto the landing deck, engines hissing as they deactivated. Optimus hurriedly approached as the platform lowered. Megatron stepped out first, Ratchet sitting stiffly in his arms. Relief hit Optimus in a huge wave, enough to rattle him from the impact. He moved forward to meet Megatron, unashamed of the tears welling up in his optics. 

“Optimus,” Ratchet murmured, optics widening at the sight of him. He shifted in Megatron’s hold, eager to leave it for his mate. Megatron wordlessly passed Ratchet over to Optimus. 

The Prime took his mate into his arms, sighing in relief as he touched him for the first time in over a month. “Ratchet. . .” He whispered, voice cracking. He turned his back to those stepping out of the ship, saving his pride, moving towards the entrance. Tears had made it down his cheeks as he pressed his forehelm to Ratchet’s. 

His mate’s gentle servos brushed his helm, and he had to slow down to avoid tripping. “Sweetspark, don't cry,” Ratchet whispered softly, "Primus, you're going to make me start.”

“You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” Optimus’ voice was shaky and weak. He was saying this more to himself than Ratchet. “I’ve got you.” He repeated. 

“I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again.” The medic pulled his helm back, wiping Optimus’ tears away with his thumbs. “I missed you so fragging much.” He laughed softly. “Oh, Primus, Optimus. . .” He cupped Optimus' face, peppering his forehelm with kisses. "I've had to wait a month to kiss your handsome face." 

The Prime stopped for a moment, swallowing the tension in his throat and sighing happily as Ratchet pressed kisses to his face. Bumblebee stood aside, awkwardly trying not to watch. Optimus almost broke into a sob when Ratchet finally found his lips, pecking him gently and laughing softly. 

"You're all choked up for me. You're adorable." Optimus couldn't believe that his mate said that in front of anyone, and he hid his blush against Ratchet's neck.

"You two can make out as much as you want once he's out of the medbay, now get moving." Knock Out ordered from behind them. Ratchet relented with a sigh, letting his servos fall to his lap so he could be taken without distraction. 

Optimus carried him to the medbay, Knock Out following behind. He carefully laid Ratchet onto a slab, and then took his servo, desperate to be touching him. “How fast will you be done?” He asked Knock Out. 

“Well, he’s got a nasty infection on his leg there, and his pedes will need lots of treatment.” The red mech was collecting supplies. “And I need to check on the sparkling.” 

Ratchet wasn’t paying much attention to what Knock Out was saying; he was pulling Optimus’ servo to rest over his swollen middle. He rubbed Optimus’ servo in a slow circle, applying light pressure, until the sparkling reacted, kicking at the touch. Optimus’ ventilations stuttered, and his optics widened. “Was that-”

“Your sparkling? It was.” Ratchet smiled up at him affectionately. “I’ve wanted you to feel that for so long.”

Optimus wanted to cry again. He vented, pressing a kiss to Ratchet’s forehelm. “I’m here for you now, Old Friend.”


	14. Iacon's Memorial Grounds

Megatron dipped his sharp talons into the fresh soil, sighing long and slow. “You deserved better, Old Friend.” 

All around him were rows upon rows of gravestones. They stretched for a long distance, chasing the horizon under a soft setting sky. Everyone important was buried here. Senators, martyrs, war heroes, doctors. . . Megatron knew all the names. He wasn’t surprised to see Autobot warriors here. On his way in, he had glimpsed Ironhide’s name, right beside Chromia’s. 

Soundwave was the first and likely only Decepticon to be buried here. No Decepticon was buried here during the war, and now that the faction was no more, Soundwave would be the only Cybertronian bearing the Decepticon badge to be resting here. Megatron felt that this wasn’t enough. Soundwave had been by his side since the beginning, he had been loyal and reliable for eons. The mech deserved the highest honors for what he did for his cause. 

Most of those returning home had rid themselves of their insignias. Many of the Autobots struggled with this; they were proud of what they did, and of their faction’s victory. Optimus encouraged setting the past behind them- factions didn’t matter anymore. 

Megatron was impressed that Optimus had removed his own Autobot badges. Team Prime had followed in his wake- with the exception of Ratchet. The medic was too proud to erase it completely. Instead, he made an effort to dull it down until it was subtle, barely noticeable. 

Almost all Decepticons had tossed aside their badges. Autobots had been more hesitant, but it was slowly happening. It became a growing trend for other symbols to be put in their place- small decos of Cybertron, constellations, stars, moons, flames, anything they could think of, anything they liked. When they looked to where their former faction’s insignia would be, they saw a new symbol that made them happy, without the association of war. 

And yet, Soundwave hadn’t lived long enough to exchange his badge for something new. Instead, he had been left in another dimension to starve to death. It was a horrible way to die, watching your energon levels drop, feeling your frame slowly shut down. Soundwave deserved so much better. His husk had been found in the control bridge of the Nemesis; Rafael had helped cross the streams of the bridges in order to retrieve it. Megatron was admittedly nervous that while he was inside this different dimension, the bridge would be closed, and he’d be abandoned there to die, just as Soundwave had.

Instead, Optimus came with him. Optimus walked beside him, helped him search the warship, and offered to carry Soundwave out. 

A sizable supply of energon was given to Megatron, loaded onto a small ship. It had been Kickback’s ship, the one his trio had arrived in. It was gifted to Megatron. The two mechs that had arrived with Kickback had been uninvolved in the kidnapping ordeal, but had been overwhelmingly sympathetic. They had given Megatron everything they knew about Kickback, which wasn’t much, and had proved that they had no idea what had been happening. It appeared that the Insecticon had met up with Rumble and the seekers after they arrived. 

The two mechs did provide Optimus with Kickback’s personal belongings. Among those were a series of personal notes- drafts of plans. Revenge plans. It seemed that as soon as Optimus’ message to all, inviting everyone home, reached Kickback, he began scheming for vengeance. 

Megatron wondered if there were other Decepticons out there that wished to continue his legacy. 

That wasn’t his concern. He sprinkled soil over the grave, venting. He slowly stood, sparing Soundwave’s grave one last look, before turning and made his way back to the ship-  _ his  _ ship. He wasn’t sure what he would do, or where he would go. He had the means to travel and explore, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted that.

He had all the time in the world to decide.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Optimus was pleasantly surprised to come home to Bulkhead in his housing unit. He had left Ratchet for a couple hours for work, promising to check in every quarter. He hadn’t realized that his mate had company. Ratchet was reclined on the couch, talking away, while Bulkhead mixed energon for him, happily listening. 

Admittedly, Optimus never thought they would be friends. At least, not like this. Bulkhead had matured significantly, and Ratchet had loosened and relaxed. They regarded one another like old friends.

“Welcome home.” Ratchet greeted. Optimus walked behind the couch to kiss his forehelm.

“How are your pedes?”   
  


Ratchet vented, lifting his leg to look at one of his bandaged pedes. “Painful. But the wounds are healing.” He smiled at Bulkhead as a cube of energon was handed to him. The couch creaked as Bulkhead sat down.

“Ratch was telling me about some of the names you guys are thinking about.” He seemed excited. “I really like them, I’ve already come up with nicknames.” His optics sparkled, and Optimus couldn’t help but smile. “Once the apartment buildings are back up again, I want to build a playground. There will be more sparklings, and I want them to have somewhere to go to play.” 

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Ratchet nodded, sipping his energon. “Perhaps you’ll even have one.”

Bulkhead blushed. “Hah, I don’t think so. I’m not sure I’d be the best parental figure.” 

“Well, whatever you choose, you’ll have lots of practice with our little bitlet.” The medic rubbed his middle, smiling down at it fondly. “You’ll have competition for babysitting, though.” 

“Smokescreen and Bumblebee clash over it daily.” Optimus agreed.

“Oh!” Ratchet suddenly startled, servo darting out to grab Bulkhead’s wrist. The wrecker jumped, optics widening.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“The sparkling is kicking, quickly,” Ratchet pulled his servo over quickly. Bulkhead seemed timid, hesitating.

“I. . . I’m scared of hurting you.” He admitted quietly.

Ratchet slowed his movements, gently setting Bulkhead’s servo over his middle. “You won’t.” He reassured. “Now wait a moment. . .” Optimus smiled fondly at Bulkhead’s look of wonder. His optics widened, and he laughed.

“Woah, I didn’t know it felt like that.” He said in awe.

Optimus sat down on the other side of Ratchet. “The sparkling wants out.” He draped an arm around his mate. 

“Primus, keeps me up all night.” Ratchet huffed. “Just wait until they are screaming nonstop.”

“You made it through years with Miko.” Bulkhead joked, and Ratchet laughed. “I need to visit her.”

“We all do.” Optimus nodded. 

While it was wonderful that Bulkhead was visiting, Optimus was glad when he left. He wanted alone time with his mate. The moment Bulkhead was gone, Optimus was on his knees, in between Ratchet's legs, resting his helm on his swollen forge. He rubbed it in slow, gentle circles, just as Ratchet had taught him. The bitlet responded with kicks against his helm, squirming against their sire's touch. 

"I can't wait to meet you." Optimus was murmuring to Ratchet's stomach. "We already love you so much." 

Ratchet stroked his helm, closing his optics. The sparkling was thrashing in excitement- or just in reaction- to the tender touches and vibrations of Optimus' deep voice. 

"Every day, more toys are delivered for you. Everyone is bent on spoiling you." Optimus glanced up at his mate's face. "You are all your carrier thinks about."

"Mm. Because I'm ready for him to come out." 

Optimus' optics sparkled. "Him?"

Ratchet shrugged. "I feel like it's a mech. Obviously, I don't know for sure." He traced a seam along Optimus' helm with his fingers. "It's just a feeling, really."

"Hmm. Did you tell your carrier that you're a mech? Are you going to be our handsome little son?" The sound of Optimus cooing brought a wide smile to Ratchet's face. 

"He'll be a stunner. His sire is the most gorgeous mech around." Ratchet purred.

"And his carrier is equally beautiful." Optimus smiled up at him. "We’re going to make one pretty mechling."

Ratchet laughed, soft and genuine. 

This was nice. Optimus hoped to spend many evenings like this, enjoying time with his friends and family, at peace. He wondered if Megatron desired the same peace. 


	15. Grand Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to give you the last chapter early since everything has slowed down.

Optimus had been through a lot, he had made a lot of tough calls, he had been the one in charge when everything went wrong. It was him that had to take charge, it was him that had to always know what to do.

He had no fragging idea what he was supposed to do when Ratchet went into labor. When Optimus saw the puddle of fluids staining the sheets, he entered anxiety mode without Ratchet having to say anything. Ratchet spent the first few minutes laughing at Optimus’ panic, before the pain started, and he had to focus on the fact that he was going to give birth. Optimus called Knock Out, and the red medic was bridged to their home immediately. 

Ratchet whined about having to give birth in their berth; he didn’t want to ruin the nice sheets. He and Knock Out argued over that for a bit, before Ratchet relented. 

Optimus was pacing and desperately trying to be helpful, but his servos were shaking. He kept stuttering. It was pathetically adorable to see the brave leader of the Autobots, reduced to a nervous mess. It was a good distraction for Ratchet; Knock Out encouraged him to harass Optimus throughout the labor, to keep his focus off of the pain. The Prime realized he wouldn’t be much help outside of talking to his mate, so he sat beside the berth, holding Ratchet’s servo and admiring how damn brave Ratchet was being. 

It all went well, and before long, the screech of a newborn filled the room. Knock Out cleaned the sparkling off quickly and passed him off to Optimus so he could finish with Ratchet. Optimus took the tiny life into his servos, and the anxiety and panic was gone, replaced by absolute adoration. The little mech was writhing in his blanket, whining, optics squeezed shut. He was white, with orange and red detailing along his plating. Optimus couldn’t describe the wave of joy that passed through him; he was so happy that the sparkling resembled his carrier so much. He watched the newborn’s face tighten and slacken as he adjusted to the outside world, before his optics slowly opened. They were out of focus as the little mech tried to take in his surroundings. Optimus found himself looking into optics almost the same as his own. He smiled wide. This is exactly what Ratchet wanted. 

“Are you done yet?” Ratchet was snapping at Knock Out. 

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Knock Out snarked back. “Frag, hand him his sparkling already, before he rips my helm off.”

Optimus knelt beside the berth, delicately laying the mech onto Ratchet’s sparkchamber. Ratchet’s maternal instincts seemed to click in in an instant, and his irritation was gone. He smiled, stroking his sparkling’s cheek gently, engines humming a soft tune to soothe him. Optimus didn’t even realize that he had been crying, it wasn’t until his vision was blurry that he wiped his optics. He sat down on the berth beside Ratchet, draping an arm around him and pulling him close. “You’re a sire.” Ratchet whispered.

“You’re a carrier.” Optimus pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“He’s so damn cute.” His mate laughed quietly. His optics were teary. “I love him.” He smiled as the sparkling looked up at him. “Hello there, Sweetspark.” The sparkling made a gurgling noise as he pet his helm. 

Optimus rested his helm on Ratchet’s shoulder, watching Ratchet’s gentle servos stroke his sparkling. The two were watching each other, as the sparkling drew the connection to his carrier. Optimus’ field wrapped around them protectively, venting happily. The little mech wiggled in surprise at the sensation, wide optics finding Optimus. Ratchet laughed.

“That’s your sire, Little One.” The medic purred. 

Optimus stroked his son with his field affectionately, laying it over him and his carrier like a blanket. The sparkling reacted curiously, squeaking. “You look just like your carrier.” He rumbled softly. “You’re beautiful, just like him.” He reached out to touch his helm. 

“His build is similar to yours.” Ratchet observed. “And those optics. . . Primus, those optics are killing me.” 

They stayed like that for some time, watching one another, enjoying the peace.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Bulkhead knocked on the door, his spark racing. He was admittedly panicking. When Optimus called him with the news, he had been overjoyed. A few days later, when Optimus invited him to their home, he had nearly blown a circuit. They hadn't been kidding when they told him he'd be the first to meet the sparkling. He was excited, but he was also very nervous. He had never interacted with a sparkling before. Optimus answered the door, smiling brightly. “Come in, they are in the nursery.” 

Bulkhead twiddled his thumbs as he marched down the hallway and into the nursery, where Ratchet sat in a chair, a small bundle in his arms. The medic greeted him with a kind smile. “Glad you could make it.”

“It’s really good to see you. We’ve all missed you so much while you’ve been on leave. Knock Out is convinced he is the ultimate medic now.” Bulkhead mirrored the smile right back at him. His gaze lowered to the package in Ratchet’s arms. 

The medic pulled back the blanket a little to reveal a tiny grey face, with big, precious optics. “Would you like to meet him?”

“He’s so cute,” the Wrecker squeaked. “I shouldn’t get close-”

Before he could finish, Optimus had taken the bundle from Ratchet and placed it in his servos. Bulkhead swallowed nervously, gathering his courage before looking down at the little mech with wide optics. The sparkling looked right back up at him curiously, gurgling and chittering. He wiggled in the swaddle. Bulkhead’s spark melted right then and there. There was an overwhelming flood of adoration in his chest, and his field was alive with joy. Despite that, his frame was rigid. It was scary, holding something so fragile. With his track record of breaking things, this was a worrying interaction for him. 

“He likes you.” Optimus encouraged. 

“What’s his name?” Bulkhead couldn’t tear his gaze away from his precious optics. 

“Wildflower Pax.” Ratchet replied fondly. “Optimus couldn’t decide on a flower name, so we settled for vague.”

“That’s so cute.” The wrecker carefully rocked the little mech. His servos stayed deathly still; he was worried about hurting the little one. “I’m so happy for you guys.” He laughed as Wildflower squealed. “Everyone is going to love him.”

“Rafael and Miko are demanding he be brought to Earth.” Optimus rumbled. “When they heard the news, they were ecstatic.” 

“Once he’s developed enough to go through a spacebridge, we’ll pay them a visit.” Ratchet rose to his pedes, leaning on a cane for support. It was temporary; his pedes were healed for the most part, but still caused him pain. He began folding blankets. “June and Fowler are intrigued. Fowler wants to know how Optimus and I spent all that time on Earth without anyone knowing about us.” 

“You certainly caught us all by surprise.” Bulkhead nodded. “I’m not sure how you never got caught.” 

“Cliffjumper caught us once.” Ratchet remembered out loud. “The fragger walked right into the washracks without knocking. We thought it was all over, you know how he never stopped talking. I think the only thing that kept his mouth shut was the fact that I threatened to burn his spike off.” 

Bulkhead blushed profusely, laughing. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” 

Wildflower started to whine, high pitched and loud. Bulkhead panicked, figuring that he did something wrong, but Ratchet simply chuckled and scooped him up from Bulkhead’s servos. “Someone’s hungry.” He sat back down, rocking his son and murmuring to him while Optimus disappeared down the hall to retrieve formula. “He’s got a scream that can shake the walls.” Ratchet kissed the sparkling’s forehelm. “You’re going to be a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” He purred softly as the sparkling whined loudly. Optimus reentered the room and handed his mate a bottle. Ratchet began to feed him, humming softly to him. Wildflower ceased his complaints immediately. It all seemed so. . . Natural. Bulkhead knew that the medic had gentle, careful servos that he trusted with his life. But this was different, this was sweet and loving and special. And the way Optimus just knew what to do to support his mate, running to fetch formula at the sparkling’s first cry. 

“You’ve got this parenting thing down.”

“For now.” Optimus rolled his optics, and Bulkhead was shocked at the expression. “I’m sure he’ll throw us through loops.”

“He’ll turn out great, though. I can’t think of better role models.” Bulkhead glanced between the two. He had so much admiration for the pair of mechs.

“He’s going to pick up a lot of swears from me.” Ratchet thought aloud, chuckling. “I don’t know how I’m going to watch what I say around him.”

“Miko learned a lot from you, in that sense.” Bulkhead laughed. 

“It’s alright, I’ll be around to teach him manners.” Optimus purred down at his son, optics sparkling affectionately. 

Bulkhead, in his spark, felt that they would be wonderful parents. They loved their son, and would work hard to give him the best possible life. He would be raised by two admirable mechs, that had been through Hell and back together. They would bring him up right, and for now, they were building a world where he’d be safe. 

Wildflower, after a couple minutes of feeding, decided that he was bored, and proceeded to spit a mouthful of formula right back onto Ratchet. The medic sighed, pulling the bottle away. “Done with that, are we?” He smiled as the sparkling giggled. “You’re out of control. What am I going to do with you?” He teased, stroking his cheek. 

Bulkhead didn’t hide his disappointment as Wheeljack pinged him. “Damn, I have to get back to the construction site.” He looked between them. “It was really great seeing you, thank you for letting me meet him.” 

He left the mates to it, returning to his work. Before he left, Optimus gave him a picture of the sparkling to show to everyone, to hold them off until they got to meet the real one.

Wildflower was laid down for a nap, once he was all cleaned up. 

Optimus drew a warm bath for his mate, pouring different sweet smelling solvents into the oil. Ratchet entered the washracks, setting the cane against the wall and sighing. “I’m over these damn burn wounds.” He muttered. 

“I know, Sweetspark. You’re almost there.” Optimus took his servo and pulled him over to the tub. He scooped Ratchet up and stepped into the warm oil, lowering down into it. “He made a mess of you.” He observed.

Ratchet glanced down at his chest. It was caked in dried formula. “He’s lucky he’s so damn cute.” He shook his helm, laughing. “Not unlike you.”

Optimus leaned forward and caught his lips. After a moment, however, he pulled away, laughing. “You. . . You taste like formula.”

“I’m not fragging surprised, it’s all over me.” Ratchet’s ventilations hitched at the way Optimus laughed, covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle it. He didn’t get to hear that very often. He reached forward and cupped his helm. “I don’t deserve you, Optimus. Scrap, you’re just so damn handsome.” 

The Prime shifted to lay beside him, burying his face into Ratchet’s neck cabling. The solvent in the oil made him smell nice. He vented happily. 

Everything turned out just fine.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Megatron found himself dipping into Cybertron’s galaxy every year or two, to glimpse what was being done with the planet. It was flourishing. He would never admit this, but Optimus had done a wonderful job bringing Cybertron back to life. 

It had been twelve years since Megatron had actually set foot on its surface. He wanted nothing to do with Optimus and his empire, he was a symbol of war and oppression. He had no place there, not anymore. He was strong enough to accept that. 

But something about this driveby made him hesitate. A certain curiosity. 

Megatron landed his ship in the very first city, admiring how much it had grown. It glowed, tall office and apartment buildings, sweet little housing units, playgrounds, energon dispensaries, crystal gardens. . . It possessed the necessities. But even in its simplicity, it was grand. 

He pulled a cloak over his helm and shoulders. All he wanted was a brief walk, a look. He wasn’t sure what reactions he would find if he just marched out of his ship. He’d look sketchy and suspicious under a cloak, but at least others wouldn’t know it was him. 

Slowly, leisurely, he followed a path through the beautiful town, admiring the craftsmanship of the walkway, the small fences surrounding the housing units, everything. It was so full of love and care. High pitched shrieks announced the presence of children. He wasn’t surprised, but he was intrigued. He hadn’t seen a Cybertronian child since long before the war. 

Megatron stopped to observe a playground. Mechlings and femlings were running around, shouting, tumbling down slides, pushing one another on the swingset, enjoying the sunny day. He watched the pleasant sight, enjoying the peace it instilled in him. 

Something hit his pede. He startled, looking down to find a ball that had escaped the fun. A mechling was jogging towards him. 

“Excuse me, may I have that please?” The mech asked politely.

Megatron was late to responding, he was caught by the child’s optics. He found himself looking right into the face of Orion Pax, only. . . His colors were white, red and orange. Had he simply seen the mech's body, he wouldn't have spared a second glance, but those optics. . . 

This had to be Optimus’ son. Megatron finally reached down and plucked up the ball, handing it to the young mech wordlessly.

“Thank you!” 

Megatron watched him run back to a small group of other kids, where they gathered in a circle and began kicking the ball back and forth. The little mech was laughing brightly, in a way that resembled Orion Pax. Megatron felt like he was looking into the past, where his old friend’s colors had just been a little different. 

This was enough exploring for him. Megatron traveled back to his ship silently, ignoring the strange looks he received. He wondered if his signal popped up on the  _ Nemesis.  _ He wondered if Optimus even cared that he was around. 

He left Cybertron, once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! I hope you all enjoyed this!

**Author's Note:**

> This work is prewritten, check in frequently for updates.


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